


Misfits

by Divina_tb



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Forgotten Realms, Original Work
Genre: Dark Elves, Drow, Eilistraee - Freeform, Elves, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Fluff and Smut, Gender Roles, Half-Elves, Interracial By Fantasy Standards, Interracial Relationship, Light Dom/sub, Light Femdom, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Plot, Quests, Rimming, Romance, Sexual Content, Sister-Sister Relationship, Slice of Life Elements, Smut, Smutty, Waterdeep, social norms, sword coast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-04-18 19:06:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14219769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Divina_tb/pseuds/Divina_tb
Summary: In a post-Spellplague, post-Second Sundering Faerun most of the Gods have gone quiet and the heroes of old, including the Chosen Ones are gone forever. While magic has been restored to the Realms, society is still reeling from the after-effects, without the great powers that used to be able to stop devious plots from occurring. Certain individuals now have the opportunity to fill in the power-vacuums left by the events of the previous centuries - some of them pure hearted, some of them corrupted, some of them seeking balance. It is an age of new heroes, an age of insecurity but also joy: The Sword Coast appears to be peaceful again. Or is it?Our heroine, a half-elven outcast from the Sun-Elven community of the High Forest is about to find out. Having grown up in an environment rife with prejudice against her, her own prejudices and learned norms are about to come into question when she is sent to stop a large-scale raid on her erstwhile home from the Underdark. This relatively simple task will lead to unexpected meetings that taint who she thought she was and the way she sees herself and those around her. In the meantime, trouble is brewing in the South...





	1. Pawn

**Author's Note:**

> _This story takes place after the Second Sundering, somewhere in the beginning of the 16th century DR. Waterdeep is no longer the most important city on the Sword Coast but continues to be a cosmopolitan hub of activity that many (including our heroine) prefer. The Gods seem to have gone quieter, but not Eilistraee and Mystra, both of whom continue to communicate directly with their followers. This is especially true in the case of Eilistraee whose avatar had been seen in multiple places along the Sword Coast, and especially Waterdeep. In present day Waterdeep the Harpers have sponsored and served as diplomatic relations for a small above-ground extension to the Promenade of the Dark Maiden*, and small bands of her followers are finally starting to live above ground within the city proper, in peace and "beneath the sun again, where trees and flowers grow" as their lady decreed. A certain level of mistrust is still present in the city, but after centuries of tolerance of the drow community in Skullport, most simply turn a blind eye to the presence of the "dark ones" now truly among them._
> 
> Throughout the text there may be need for explanation of certain words and concepts. These will be marked with an asterisk ***** and explained in the end-notes. 
> 
> **Finally,** for those that have read my other story, Corrupted, one thing you may notice is that the heroine's name is, again, Divina. This is not because it is the same character, but simply because she is my avatar, the character I always play in games and my muse. She goes through various alignments along the Neutral spectrum depending on the game/setting/story, but is always a mage, ideally with the same stats (please picture the endless re-rolling and groan with me). While she was an NG character in Corrupted, this iteration of Divina is a TN that believes in balance, especially in terms of species preservation. But, more than Divina, the creative muse for my writing is smut. Yup, I write for smut. :) So I hope you will enjoy yourself with this story that is a bit weirder than my previous one. If it doesn't float your boat, well, then maybe see you at the next one :) Lots of love from me, Divina's counterpart on earth, what do you know, also a Divina.

The market buzzed around me. _Virgin’s Square_ was teeming with people, some trying to cut line to get the best fruit before it was sold, others busy shouting, hawking their wares, yet others inspecting the hopeful mercenaries that were lined up like bored pieces of meat. Still more had come for they had nothing better to do than to people-watch, adding to the throng. I hurried past – I hate markets and their crowds - growing up in the forest and then spending a great deal of time in quiet libraries will do that to your nerves, they become sensitive to too many stimuli and leave you easily overwhelmed. I quickly entered _Meiroth’s Fine Silks_ , hearing the little bell chime above me and closed the door, feeling bliss at the quiet inside. “Master Meiroth” I called. “A fine establishment and you know I will continue my patronage, but by the Gods and all that’s holy, whatever prompted you to open shop across the square?”   
Meiroth the Fourth appeared from behind a counter where he was squatting on the floor putting away a bolt of silk. His face was red and stout, and his little round glasses were slipping down his small pudgy nose. He sighed and lifted an eyebrow. “What can I do for our lovely Miss d’Argenti? Surely not go over the same conversation again? This is where we have always been! My father, and _his_ father and one day my only son. Are you preparing for the ball?” 

“Oh no, that’s months away. I’m afraid I only came in for a small order today… I want to have a sash made for my new mage robes. Here, have a look.” I carefully opened the thin paper in which my beautiful new silk robes were folded in. 

“Hmm… A fiery red with a wide eggshell-blue border. I can recommend silver with silver-thread embroidery for a tasteful contrast, otherwise the same eggshell blue in plain silk if you would like to keep it simple… Or perhaps a gold brocade with twisted tassels if you would rather go extravagant, mm?” 

Despite his portly appearance his movements were nimble and he had already expertly produced all three bolts of fabric he’d recommended. “I will go with the silk eggshell blue then, thank you.”   
“I have your measurements here…mmm yes…” he said, as he rifled through his carefully handwritten customer book. “I will cut you a suitable piece.”

With my shopping in hand I turned around and headed in the direction of the City of the Dead, close to which the tailor, _Patient Fingers, Fine Work_ was established. It was a lovely spring Ches ***** day and we had been spared much rain this year. The sun felt lovely on my skin and I was walking the streets with a smile on my face, lost in useless thought about my robe, its sash and how soon it would be ready. Tomorrow perhaps? Perhaps, if Missus Dinanne did not have much work. A sash would be short work for her hands of wonder. Such thoughts I was thinking when a fresh-faced, freckly human girl with bright red curls spilling from under her hood stepped in front of me, blocking my way. I glared at her when she offered no apology and tried to pass. Again, she stepped in front of me. “Move, girl.” I said coldly. She lifted her gauzy grey scarf to reveal a round brooch with a harp next to a silver moon, surrounded by four stars. I groaned audibly. 

“Those who harp will have your company” she said quietly. 

“That ship has sailed.” I responded and tried to pass again. Once more she blocked my way. I was severely tempted to blast her into smithereens in the middle of the street. “You are testing my patience. You will move out of my way right now.” 

“I think not. We _will_ have your company today. Why so testy? You used to crave a place among our ranks if all the rumors are true.” 

“That was a long time ago. Before I knew that your ideological doctrine on balance was just talk. You serve one side only, tipping the balance dangerously and precariously. Our world suffers and you are too blind to see! And why have they sent _you_ to fetch me? So green, so wet behind the ears. It is an affront, really.” 

She smiled calmly, not taking my bait. “You have thwarted one of our missions and killed several of our ranks in the process. You will come or there will be repercussions.”   
Who had I killed? I had no idea what she was talking about. “You do know I could take out your entire building in the space of an hour, yes?” 

“And then what? Our cells are active across the land. Where will you go? How long will you run? Or will you serve the balance by exterminating us all?” 

I sighed. She was right of course, not to mention that the Waterdhavian Lords had particularly good relations with the Harper cell in our city. Normally shadowy, secretive and independent, our local cell had entrenched itself deeply within city politics. “When?” 

“You may finish your business and then come to our door. Your personal password is…” and she leaned close to my ear to whisper. 

I burst out laughing in spite of myself. Then I managed to put on a grave expression and replied: “That’s offensive.” 

“But true!” she said with a smile and a wink. “See you soon then!” and off she went, annoyingly perky and self-satisfied. 

I made my way to the Harpers’ Hall the moment I was done at the tailor’s. The sooner this was over with, the better, I reasoned. 

“Password?” asked the bored guard outside the gate. 

“You know who I am, just let me in.” I responded, in no mood to repeat the ridiculous password. 

He winked and nodded. “They are expecting you, come right through.” 

I was led to a large meeting room where I experienced the first trace of fear and shock when I realized that next to the local leader, Eldrin Vale, was seated High Harper Iillura Calandriel. “Ah, Divina, please do come in.” said Eldrin with a smile. I sat down across from them, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute. What exactly was going on here? “We have a little favor to ask you. We would like you to lead one of our missions.” 

“And why would I do that?” 

“We will then forget the debt you owe us” he said, waving a hand absently in the air. 

“What debt are you referring to, exactly?” 

Iillura rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Don’t pretend you do not know. You killed an entire party of expert dragonslayers. They were ours!” 

The pieces finally clicked into place. I got up indignantly, my legs noisily pushing my chair away on the wooden parquet floor. “Those men were yours? I would do it again! Gladly!” 

It had been about a month and a half ago when I found out a party of six had slain a Red up in the Sword Mountains, taking her away from her mate. While it is true that Reds are the most evil, ferocious, rapacious and prideful of the chromatic dragons, like all dragonkind their numbers over the last centuries were dwindling with alarming rates. The act had enraged me – this pair may well have been one of the few if not only of their kind remaining in our area. Before the party decided to descend upon the male as well, I decided to take action. I utilized my network of Funambulists* to find their identities and locations and killed them one by one over a period of two days. Once I was done, I teleported to the Sword Mountains around the area where I had heard the deed took place and hiked for the better part of a day until I found his lair. I walked in carefully and saw the beast in his grand hall. With one hand behind my back I started quickly gesturing spells to lower his resistance just in case, spells that I had taken great pains to memorize without a verbal component, meaning that I had much fewer spells at my disposal that day. I certainly had the feeling I was walking a tightrope. “Since when does food just walk in through the proverbial door, human?” he rumbled lazily. I breathed a sigh of relief. Had he not been fed or was he feeling particularly irate he would have already swooped down from his perch. 

“I am not human” I said. “Just a half-elf.” 

“Ah, my two favorites combined. How lucky for me then.” Still he didn’t move from his perch. Having silently cast my spells, I freed up my hand to open a sack I had been carrying with me. 

“Please, most beautiful of the mountain range, do hear me out and forgive my impertinence for walking into your magnificent lair.” 

He immediately started looking slightly perkier and flew down to have a better look at me. He towered over me, but I was quite familiar with the temperament of the Reds and knew they found flattery irresistible: He would listen at least for a while longer. A spell trigger with teleportation was set to fire at any sign of trouble. 

“I have come bearing gifts for your greatness.” 

“Oh? And what might _you_ have that would interest _me_?” 

My eyes glimmered with mischief, trying to make this irresistible for him. “Trophies. Trophies from your enemies, I gathered just for you.” I opened the bag and brought out the Dragonslayer - an awful double-axe, the Shield of Falling Stars, the Cloak of the White Magus, the Club of Nature’s Wrath, the Golden Ring of Displacement and the Gauntlets of the Dexterous Knight. “Six in total, do you see, my beautiful red king of fire?” I was laying it on thick with the flattery, but it was going down a treat. He was completely pacified. “Please accept my gift and add them to your hoard. I have vanquished your enemies to avenge your fallen mate and to please you.” 

The enormous lizard eyes flashed with greed and then narrowed with suspicion. “And what do you wish in return, human girl?” 

“As I said, I am a _half-elf_.” 

He shook his head with disinterest. 

“Mmm what would I like… Why don’t you show me your human form so that I may look at you in the eyes and then we can better discuss?” Trickery 101: Gain one easy acquiescence first, then when you make your second, bigger request it becomes ten times more likely that you get a yes once again. 

Red dust fell around me, glittering like a magic spell. When it settled, I saw a youth at the precipice of manhood lying on his belly on the floor. In human terms, he looked to be eighteen years old. I felt my hair raise at the cruelty. This dragon was young. Very young. He might have to spend the next thousand years alone if people like the ones that took his mate did not leave him alone. His torso was naked and on his legs he wore snakeskin leggings of blood-red tinged with black. His tousled hair reached his shoulders in uneven points, black as the night. Two horns started from the middle of his head and curled backwards, while in place of ears he had pointed red fins. His skin was pure white and his eyes yellow with slitted pupils. 

“So beautiful…” I whispered and he smiled, rolling slightly on his belly and making his feet which were in the air wiggle provocatively. 

“Aren’t I just, though?” 

I looked down to hide a smile. I switched to draconic: “How old are you, my beautiful red king of fire? You seem young to these eyes.” 

He stopped moving his feet and tilted his head to the side curiously. “Did you cast a tongues spell without me noticing, mageling?” 

I shook my head. “I speak draconic.” 

“How is that possible?” he hissed. 

“You will permit your humble friend her little secret? What is a woman without mystique after all, oh great one?” He huffed and a tiny cloud of sulfur escaped his nostrils. 

“Fine. I am a hundred years old. How about you? Or is that part of your female mystique as well?” 

“Mmm, normally I might say yes, but for you I will make an exception. I am only a hundred and fifty young this year.” I could tell from the lack of reaction on his part that the number in combination with my race was meaningless to him. 

“Now give me those things. They will do nicely for the ignominy I suffered. Do not think that I enjoy the fact that you stole my kills. Still, it befits one such as me to use a lackey rather than to have to round all these mice up myself.” 

“But of course, happy to serve you.” I said, inwardly rolling my eyes. I needed to find a way to close this conversation. “And now to your original question, what I would like in exchange.” 

He quickly rolled up and sat cross-legged on the floor looking mildly furious. “YES?” he bellowed, a surprisingly deep voice suddenly escaping his supple, ephebic form. 

“I only wish that you relocate to a more remote area, away from the city. Please do understand that I would hate to see those impudent adventurers continue to attempt raids upon your domain. That would be senseless for one as wise as you! You must move your valuable treasure to a place where greedy human and elven hands will find no temptation and where they do not perceive your magnificent threat upon their lives.” I was by now thoroughly disgusted with myself and my speech, but this marvelous creature really had to move away before our world had none of his kind left. “Please heed my words and fly away, find another mate, live away from humanity, I beg of you.” I laid the sack with the adventurers’ trophies at his feet and crouched close to him. He smelled of sulfur and brimstone and radiated heat. 

“I will do so half-elf. But not because of your counsel. Only because I tire of these surroundings and long for new adventure.” 

“But of course.” 

“Your name?” 

“I am Divina, and you?” 

“Phlegeth.” 

“Well Phlegeth, thank you for showing yourself to me and for listening to my boring tale.” 

“Yes. I tire of this conversation. Perhaps we shall speak another time.” He looked cross, biting his lip rather petulantly and in that moment I knew that he was lonely, something he would stubbornly never admit, not even to himself. I really hoped he would keep his promise but I had done all I could. I spoke a few words tracing a circle on the floor and teleported away, back to Waterdeep.

Iillura gave me a penetrating glare, like shooting daggers. “You persist in helping these disgusting creatures! We have been watching you. And now you have taken down our men. Good men that had received years of training in order to efficiently slay these wyrms without suffering death at their claws! Our investment has been utterly ruined by your outlandish morals!” 

“Outlandish? Wishing for balance in the world is outlandish? Was it not this very ideal upon which the foundation of your organization was built?” 

She waved my arguments away with a gesture that spoke her distaste loud and clear. “Do not question us, outsider.” 

“Very well. Then if this little lecture is over then I presume I am free to leave?” I was seething. 

“No, of course you may not! You owe us a debt, have you not heard a word we said? Our investment was ruined. We have sat on our hands for the last couple of months waiting for just the right toll to appear. And now it has. Sit back down and listen, for you _will_ repay us by fulfilling a mission. And do not think this will be something you can magically resolve by tomorrow. No. Training will be necessary. Prepare yourself to feel right at home here in our Waterdhavian Headquarters for the next two months.”

I was speechless. I sat back down on my chair as if someone had dropped a heavy sack of potatoes on my lap. “Two months? I have a house just on the other side of the Sea Ward wall you know. I can simply come every day. What is it that you wish of me anyway?” 

She raised a hand with an annoyed look as though to put an end to my questions. “You will need complete immersion for this mission. Bring whatever clothes you may need tonight and make yourself comfortable. As for the details, Eldrin will fill you in.” 

Eldrin cleared his throat. “Yes, well… I am sure once you hear our story you will see sense and gain a more positive attitude, Divina. I am sure you are aware that small-scale raids from the Underdark have been plaguing elven, and sometimes even human settlements close to the entrances to the Underdark for centuries. This is nothing new. We have, however, recently uncovered a plot to reclaim the High Forest, obliterating all elven communities within. This… this would lead to war, you do understand, don’t you?” 

I blanched. “How did you come across this information?” 

“Our sponsoring of the Eilistraeean community of the Waterdhavian Promenade has proven most fruitful. Truly a win-win situation for all parties involved. Don’t forget, it was our coffers and political influence in the city that enabled them to erect the surface shrine above the Promenade. Due to us, they are slowly but surely becoming a part of city life, no longer confined to the shadows.” 

“Can we please get to the point? I know all this.” 

“Well isn’t it obvious then? They have portals all over the Underdark to assist refugees and to find new recruits to their cause. They have been functioning as our eyes and ears – one would say it is the first time in history we have eyes in the midst of the dark ones. Not long ago they found out that the Matron Mother of the First House of Menzoberranzan has been plotting with her daughter to get the rest of the eight noble houses and their resources behind them in order to launch an all-scale attack on High Forest. It was your home, surely you feel as keenly about this as we do?” 

I remained silent, keeping my face blank. 

“Surely you care what happens to them?” he persisted. “If not about them, surely you care about the possibility of war?” 

I cared about them well enough. Not that they had given me much reason to. I sighed and looked at the ceiling trying to make the pressure in my eyes subside. The last thing I wanted was to cry in front of these people. When I was certain that no tear was about to be shed I blinked a few times and looked back at Eldrin. “What is the best course of action against this plot according to you, Eldrin?” 

He looked visibly relieved as he answered: “The Matron Mother of House Baenre and her daughter have to be assassinated. This is the only way to stop their plans in their tracks, before they garner enough support from the other noble houses. Moreover, with the First House leadership gone, drow will do what they do best: Vie for supremacy and resume their ceaseless infighting. Most importantly, their assassination will send a powerful message to all those already cognizant of the plot: The surface watches and any such action will be met with a swift death.”

“I see – and I see no fault with your syllogism. But what do you need _me_ for? Clearly, it is an assassin that you need, not a mage”, I said, eyebrows raised. 

“But you are not _any_ mage my dear. With the old guard gone – the wizards of old that had lived more than a thousand years – who is more powerful than you? Your name is starting to gain traction all over the Sword Coast!” 

“Oh, I can think of a few Thayvians. One in particular…” 

He harrumphed loudly but made no retort. Instead, he continued with his flattery: “What truly matters my dear, is that this is _your_ age. The longer you live, the more conquests you make, the more your myth as well as power shall grow…” 

“Enough, Eldrin, _please_ … Have mercy.” I said, exhausted and embarrassed from his clumsy attempts to flatter me. “I need to know _how_ exactly you envision my power being of any use whatsoever to you down there? The drow are highly resistant to magic - and I certainly do not have the capacity to lower the resistances of a large enough group of drow, let alone an entire city of them.” 

“Your increasing power has granted you extraordinary feats has it not? Spells that bypass resistances? Spells that call godly servants to your side?” 

“Oh, yes, I can just picture myself sauntering down Menzoberranzan with a Planetar in tow. Very subtle. We won’t even make it past the city gate, let alone to the First House itself” I responded, rolling my eyes dramatically. “You need an assassin, not a mage.”

A smile crept on his lips and I realized I’d been had – he had me right where he wanted me. “And what if we had an assassin? And your role was to infiltrate and ensure his success and escape to the surface? A drow assassin is all well and good, but he would not act if it cost him his life. Assurances must be made. His safety must be ensured.” 

“I love how I went from myth to bodyguard in the space of a few sentences Eldrin, thank you, I think this was the quickest and most severe demotion in history.” 

A hearty laugh escaped his lips. “Sometimes I wish I had not turned you away all those years ago. At least we would have had a little more fun around here. Iillura gave him a poisonous sideways glance, her mouth contorted in disgust. 

“With missions as exciting as bodyguard duty you will forgive me if I do not find the prospect as riveting as you do. I presume the two-month training has to do with cultural immersion so that I do not give myself away?” 

“So smart…” 

“So smarmy…” I responded, matching his tone. 

Iillura unsuccessfully tried to suppress a giggle, while Eldrin tsked loudly at me but made no counter. 

“I will do as you ask. I will get my things and return tonight. One more question though… How will I get passage into the city? I do not exactly have the… right appearance. Moreover, are you sure this drow will willingly slay the most important matriarchs of his city? Are you sure he wishes to escape to the surface?” 

“We are sure. He prays to Eilistraee deeply every day for an escape from his current life and the bleak future he sees ahead of him. The Dark Maiden has heard his call and has intervened on his behalf with the High Priestess of the Promenade. You should know that he might be a male – lowly and insignificant in the eyes of his society, but he is also a noble from the Third House. I believe he is the second son. His pride will not be insignificant. Even a peasant drow would be prideful, but a noble especially so. Try to not insult his pride too much... You are not exactly, uh, famous for your, uh, courtesy. You of course as a female will always be superior, but you will also be a foreigner. These will be things to keep in mind. The priestesses will guide you better over the coming months. As to your other question, we count a Master Illusionist among our ranks. A mere illusion cast on your person would be too dangerous with the females’ clerical abilities to dispel even the most adroitly designed illusions. Our fellow however has encapsulated his illusion in this ring.” He produced a gold ring with a black signet seal and handed it to me. “It is cursed and will not be forced from your body without this curse removal scroll. The signet bears the seal of House Despana, First House of Ust Natha city. You will be impersonating their third and youngest daughter, Maelthra. I suggest you wear the ring tonight upon your return and immerse yourself in your role immediately. Two clerics from the temple of Eilistraee will oversee your education for the next two months. Good luck.” With this, he pressed the scroll into my hands and got up to leave, followed by Iillura who only nodded curtly my way before turning her back and heading towards the door. 

“Eldrin you better prepare a legally binding document stating that this service will be the first and last one performed as repayment for your lost investment” I said to his back. 

He briefly turned his face to look at me “Still unable to trust anyone Divina… Very well. I will send someone for your signature when it is drafted and send you an official copy when it has been declared binding by the Lords’ administrators.”

I breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally out the door and slumped a bit further into my chair, letting some of my tension dissipate. 

“Shall we go pick up your stuff?” the annoying redhead appeared from the shadows cast by the chartreuse velvet curtains, startling me back to full alertness. 

I cursed under my breath. “You again? Why, do you not trust I will come back? I have already agreed to this! I am not as finicky as you think girl.” 

She wrinkled her nose. “Are you always this barbed? I am Anna by the way. _Anna_. Not girl. Anna. Let’s go get your stuff. I only wish to make you comfortable. I’ll help you while you are here, introduce you to people. Okay?” “Very well, _Anna_ , lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Promenade of the Dark Maiden:** The Promenade of the Dark Maiden was the most sacred temple to Eilistraee. It lay beneath Waterdeep, northeast of Skullport in Undermountain.
> 
> ***Ches:** Spring month in the Faerunian Harptos calendar, the equivalent of March
> 
> ***Funambulists:** Tightrope walkers, balancers, aka ‘slackliners’. In our story, as will soon be revealed, this is the organization our heroine founded when she was rejected membership from the Harpers.
> 
> *For the purposes of this story, there is a canon divergence from FR lore: the Spellplague and the Second Sundering have muted the presence of mythical mages of old, something I personally find more fitting with events such as Elminster’s descent into madness every time he attempted to use magic. Restorations have not occurred. For most, it is uncertain and very much doubtful whether they still live. Moreover, it is unknown whether Laeral Silverhand Arunsun is alive or what her status is, even if she is - she is most certainly not Open Lord of Waterdeep in our canon divergence. Lastly, we observe a mix of D&D edition rules, a lot of it is 5e, but expect a mix and match as suits the story.


	2. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sil’il, the drow described in this story was directly inspired by [this image](https://orig00.deviantart.net/f0d6/f/2017/273/4/6/rysrilmyr_by_kaprriss-dbp0i6v.png) (image also embedded below) created by Kaprriss on DeviantArt. I imagine him to look like this, only with light violet eyes instead of blue. The image is property of Kaprriss and in no way belongs to me. I thank her for the inspiration – without this image that sparked my imagination this story would probably not have existed at all.
> 
>  
> 
> **Please note that the image below is so huge that if you are viewing on mobile you will have to scroll all the way to the left again for the actual chapter text to appear as under the center of the image it will just appear blank.**
> 
>  

He was standing close to the agreed upon gate as promised, guarding a fresh shipment of slaves. As I drew closer, I started making out his features and felt my breath catch a little bit at his sight. Yes, I had seen drow in Waterdeep. Yes, they were beautiful - they all are, they are bred for beauty after all, in order to enthral surfacers with their features and ensure kinder treatment, or a chance to kill and escape if caught. But he was something else. His skin was a warm dark grey that had a pearly sheen on prominent features: the bridge of his nose, his high cheekbones, the outline of his ears, his collarbone, visible as it was through the open V-neck of his thin tunic. His long hair was a mass of pure white silk, thick and luscious. The only decoration found within the mass of white was a thin braid behind each ear. His lips were perfectly formed and plush, his eyes a pale violet that sparkled in the dull low-light of the cavern. Unlike his hair, his eyebrows and thick, long lashes were dark as ebony, contrasting beautifully with his skin. So that's what noble house breeding stock looks like, I thought to myself. No wonder I had never seen anyone like him above ground. Eilistraee rarely got noble-blooded followers. Their families were too interwoven with Lolth's worship. 

He looked into my eyes searchingly, a glimmer of hope before suspicion took over and his hands reached to the twin blades hanging across his hips over his soft, black leather leggings. "Stand down, male. I am an expected guest." I produced the rolled parchment with my details and handed it over to him for inspection. "I am Maelthra, third and youngest daughter of House Despana, hailing from Ust Natha."   
His face visibly relaxed, even as his body tensed. "We have been expecting you. Forgive my impudence, honored female. If you would be interested in knowing my name, it is Sil'iluuth though most call me Sil'il and I beg you do the same, though you may of course call me as you like. I am of House Mizzrym." he said and gave a tiny bow of the head. I was not high up in the hierarchy to merit better.

"Not for long, my pet" I heard a female voice say and turned around to find an intimidating, stunningly beautiful female had sidled up to me without my noticing. "The price has been agreed upon and the payment will be received by your Matron Mother tomorrow. In a week's time I will hold the presentation ritual." 

I cursed inwardly, realizing that keeping track of drow manners and trying to ensure my difference went undetected had dulled my senses. She looked at me with contempt and I wondered if she made this elaborate speech for my benefit, to claim her right on this man. Certainly not, I thought, since I, as an outsider could hardly saunter in and claim him for myself, as amusing as that thought seemed to me seeing as he looked so delicious. I couldn't help but feel my lips twitch in a tiny smile. She noticed and hissed. I made certain to not look her in the eye at all, lest I roused her ire. 

"I do not know why you have made the journey all the way here, youngest of House Despana. I am aware you all think you are special just because you live in your precious _'First'_..." she said, scoffing, "...but you are in the big city now, my sister, and your precious Ust Natha seems to this eldest of House Baenre like a backwater village filled with fools that cling to an inglorious past. Feast your eyes upon Menzoberranzan and leave quickly once you have seen our glory and might. We can make do without your assistance."   
"I have heard your words and concur, that even at first glance your city fills me with awe. I do however wonder whether your Matron Mother agrees with your welcome message? I have been asked to come here specifically, considering our proximity to the surface and our vast experience with raids. Small though our city may be, our alertness is second to none." I could feel her simmering even as I continued to respectfully avoid direct eye-contact. The give-and-take of veiled or overt threats, the complex system of pride and humility... this society was exhausting. ...And interesting, I had to admit. 

She snatched my papers from Sil'il's hands. "I trust you will guide our guest as per the Matron Mother's wishes. She will be received tomorrow morning, after the first temple visit. Make sure you bring her on time and then promptly leave."

My knowledge of drow etiquette was limited, but I suspected she had just humiliated me before turning on her heel to leave by suggesting that a male serve as a guide. Still, I was grateful, for we needed to act in concert and that would have been difficult were we to be separated so soon after meeting. He looked around to make sure we could not be heard. "I thank you for coming." he whispered. 

"My name is Divina" I whispered back "I will need you to warn me or step in if I make any mistakes that could give my identity away. I am not sure my training has been enough to cover every aspect of your complex customs, but hopefully this mission will be short enough to not matter. Every hour we overstay our welcome endangers us further." 

"You are not one of Eilistraee's own?!" he asked me incredulously. I shook my head. "It is but an illusion as you will soon discover. But hopefully no sooner than planned. Come. Let us start walking the city lest we draw undue suspicion now that the Slave Master has returned. Take me somewhere we can talk."

I wished to marvel at the city, covered in multi-colored faerie fire and buildings suspended upon airways, I wished to imprint the almost magical sight into my mind, but was too scared to stare lest I give away my utter lack of belonging. Part of me was petrified to be there - growing up with elves will do that to you - but another part of me wanted to stay indefinitely and study the city and its inhabitants. If only that were possible without getting involved in their daily strife and struggles for dominance over each other. I was not sure I had the mental strength for such a life. As we walked down winding corridors through seemingly haphazardly thrown together buildings that still managed to look magnificent if gaudy by surface standards, I suddenly became aware of being looked at everywhere we went. Further into the city, as we approached the noble district the looks became even more intent and I started receiving soft-spoken compliments and, astonishingly, vague allusions to what could only be interpreted as promises of sexual prowess. 

"What is happening?" I whispered to Sil'il through gritted teeth. He glanced my way with a look that betrayed complete and utter lack of understanding. This was not going well; we both spoke drow but we may as well have been speaking different languages if the understanding between us was any measure. "Why am I being... looked at? …Flattered?" I whispered, for lack of better words to describe my situation. I was certain my attire was not... unbecoming, but neither was it much different to what other females of my supposed 'rank' were wearing. 

He looked at me again, first with confusion, then with dawning realization, then with something akin to horror at having to speak this out. "Forgive me honored female, but you appear to be fertile this period. These males seek your favor and wish to win it by fulfilling your needs. I must apologize for putting you into this position. While they do not know you, even a male member of House Mizzrym would be unlikely to escort someone unimportant..." 

He was about to continue but I had caught on and had heard enough. I was grateful that the illusion disguising me had made my skin much darker than his - had it been any lighter I was sure that he would have been able to see both my face and ears flushing red with embarrassment. My neck too, probably. "I understand. Social climbing." 

"Precisely." 

"And on a different matter altogether: Can we please temper the humility, Sil'il? We need to get our act together and act as one if we are to achieve this by tonight." 

He looked taken aback by my words, but quickly nodded his acquiescence.

Still, as we proceeded towards wherever it was that he was leading me, I couldn't help but feel a frisson of excitement course through me as the covert looks, overt stares, humble allusions and softly masked innuendo continued to follow us on our way. I was intrigued. "Tell me, Sil'il. How can you tell?" 

"This?" he shrugged "How else can males climb the strict hierarchy? Battle prowess and sexual skill. It is the only way to stay alive a while longer, the only way to prove themselves." 

"Yes, yes, I know this much. But how can you _tell_?" 

"Ah. Oh, I see. Smell. Evolved to ensure the needs of our females are clearly understood. It is not too surprising, is it? Male spiders have the same senses." He gestured wildly at the spiders crawling freely all about the caverns. "The females stay their ground while the males, drawn by the scent tread on the thin line between life and death, only to please their chosen queen, knowing full well they might die in the process. I hear many surface animals are the same... In terms of their ability to smell, at least. Only Lolth's sons, be they spider or drow, seem destined for slaughter. But who knows, I am not an expert on surface mating rituals." He gave a bitter little smile, his eyes looking ahead, avoiding my own. 

I pondered his words for a moment. I was uncertain whether I wished surface males had the ability to sniff this out. As one who liked to keep her secrets and wishes close to her heart most of the time - too much honesty can make one too vulnerable, after all - I tended to find the idea rather unpalatable. Much too much power given away. But I guessed here, in the Underdark, it did not matter. All power was concentrated in female hands anyhow. The small frisson of excitement caused by the inciting words and stares had built up to a low-rising heat inside me. "I wonder then... Can you also smell _need_ , beyond mere fecundity?" 

He laughed and I caught sight of a beautiful, honest smile on his face, his white teeth sparkling in the low-light of the cavern. "Of course" he answered, eyes twinkling but still looking straight ahead. "You make interesting company, Maelthra" he whispered, but I was not really listening. You only live once, I thought to myself. I didn't know if I would ever get the chance to do this again. At the next call from a supplicant I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at the source of the low, sweet voice.

"Yes?" I inquired coolly. The male did not lift his eyes. "You may look upon me and speak." 

"This lowly runt would gladly spend the evening on his knees for you Mistress. Fear will drip down my back in your honor, even as I make you scream in delight, may Lolth rejoice in your pleasures." 

I laughed and his face fell. "You are permitted to touch and kiss my foot and show me a sample of your devotion to my joy." I felt reckless, like playing a dangerous game in a place I knew little about, complex as it was. He cautiously removed my sandal, lifting my left foot with his right hand, his left hand rising to take my right hand in his in order to steady me. 

I smacked his hand away loudly with the back of my hand. "I don't need you to support me!" I had absolute conviction in my words, but had not foreseen that the kiss on the foot was liberally interpreted as an invitation to suck my toes. When the tongue flicked twice between my toes and then rose with an expertly soft brush up to my ankle accompanied by a hot breath I felt like my leg was about to buckle. "Enough!" 

The nameless male immediately stopped with what he was doing and quickly cowered back. I slipped my foot back into my sandal and walked on, Sil'il in tow. He fell silent for a while, then finally asked "And what do you think of Menzoberranzan hospitality now, dear guest?" 

"I could get used to it" I replied and he nodded.

* * *

We had been climbing higher and higher, the city now thousands of feet beneath us. "Listen, where are we going? We have been walking for nigh an hour. We need to talk." 

"The Academy, at the highest point." he said, pointing ahead. 

"You want us to strategize in the military base?" I hissed, incredulous.

He snorted. "I spent twenty years of my life there and still hold provisionary quarters at Melee Magthere ***** , one of the few places in the city with no females." 

"Then I cannot enter!" 

It was his turn to look incredulous. "You are female, you can go wherever you like. It is just that unless there is an inspection from Arach-Tinilith ***** , females never choose to go to the warrior quarters. Worry not. You are a visitor from afar, a guest of Matron Mother Baenre. If we are found you can simply look suitably impressed by Menzoberranzan warrior discipline. Not to mention we will not stay in my quarters. Come... trust me." the last few words seemed to come difficult to him to speak out but follow him I did. What choice did I have? 

Sil'il pulled out a thin silver chain from under his tunic and showed the ring hanging from it to the guard outside the Academy. The action seemed to be purely perfunctory, as the guard seemed to know and recognize him. With a simple nod he stepped to the side and we started climbing the stairs. "We go to the attic, after you." His quarters were sparsely furnished - a bed, a bookcase and a work desk that clearly was not meant for studying. It was covered with a sheet of steel and riddled with metal and tools. I paid no heed and looked absently for somewhere to sit, but Sil'il had moved toward the wall closest to his bed. He ran his hand expertly along an invisible line and seemed to stop when he sensed something. He pressed once and then his hand continued perpendicularly to the original line and to the left. More confidently this time he pressed again. His thumb traced a circle and at his next, almost imperceptible press a secret passage opened. With all my insight into the weave and its tangled web filled with glimmering gems and specs of light and darkness, rogue skills still mystified me. They seemed to have their own magic, a type to which I was barred access from. I wondered whether it was all sleight of hand or whether they were granted some power I couldn't fathom.

"Please." he said, his open palm gesturing me to enter. "Can you see in the dark?" he asked as he closed the passage door behind by hitting a foot lever. 

He still did not know my race, I realized. I nodded: "Well enough." 

I sat down on one of the throw pillows on the floor and looked at a low, intricately carved table. Its legs were covered with carvings of flowers, though they were not reminiscent of any flowers I had ever seen before and seemed rather imaginary in nature, though delicate and not in the least bit crude. 

He caught me looking and simply said: "It is where I pray." 

"She has heard your prayer and sent for you, if this is your wish." 

He remained silent for a while and his eyes closed. Finally, he opened them again and said "I would leave, yes." 

"Your pause does make me wonder if this is truly what you want. If you have doubts, I would know it now, rather than later." 

"Escape this place of constant danger and hideous slaughter?" he let out a little laugh. "I would, Maelthra… nay, Divina. I was simply trying to imagine what it would be like to live under Eilistraee's silver light. I will not lie to you however and say that no trepidation lurks in my heart... This world is all I've ever known." 

I nodded. "Very well. You need to kill Mother Matron Baenre and your..." I struggled for words for a moment. Betrothed certainly did not fit. Buyer was the word on the tip of my tongue, but I was not going to speak it out. "Your intended mate, her eldest daughter, Sabanna" I finally settled.

A look of pure terror set upon his features. "It is madness, that which you speak of" he finally managed. "To begin with, once they mature, female drow can take on _and_ successfully slay multiple males at once. They simply are that much stronger. Secondly... How could you ask this of me? The Dark Maiden forbids us from killing fellow drow!" 

"You will not be alone in your task. I will assist you. As for your second concern, let me start by telling you that the reason they have to be removed is because they have set a plan in motion to start large-scale raids - perhaps war - with certain communities of surface elves. The Harpers, together with the Eilistraeeans of Waterdeep have done well to uncover this plot. Now, if the top two females of the First House of Menzoberranzan are removed, not only will this send a powerful message to everyone else involved in the plot that this will not be tolerated - a cease and desist message if you like - but it will also spur... your natural drive for competition. With house Baenre in shambles, the other noble Houses will have to fight their way to the top, not without the resistance of the remaining members of House Baenre. It will be an interesting time, I foresee. I am sure they will be kept busy. Now that the reasons are clear to you, let me assuage your spiritual concerns: The clergy asked me to tell you this: Remember that above all, Eilistraee wishes for the peaceful return of her kind to the surface. That evil must be struck down swiftly and with full force, lest it remains free to wreak havoc. Together, these things should guide your heart and make you see that if they are allowed to pursue their ambitions, it will be a great setback for the ultimate goal of the Dark Maiden to reunite her children with the rest of the races and bring them back to their roots, that is, the surface." 

He did not seem to need more convincing. "What must be done?"

I detailed the simple, but hopefully effective plan for him: I would decrease his magic resistance in order to be able to enhance his strength and to cast greater invisibility on him so that he would be able to attack without breaking the spell. "You will have to use your assassin skills to ensure a one-strike kill, ideally under cover of the night when the Matron and Sabanna are in reverie. Hopefully you know the layout of their house. Are you able to kill them with one strike if they cannot see you to counteract?" 

I could see his eyes flash with anger in the darkness. Ah, the famous drow pride. "Of course! What do you take me for? How about yourself? Are you sure your enchantment will hold?" 

I nodded quietly. "Unless there is some other work at play here in the Underdark that I am not aware of, yes, my enchantment will hold and let you finish the job. Is the Matron Mother's patron ***** a wizard?" I asked with some concern. 

"He was. She killed him a month ago." 

"Does the House have an active wizard at the moment?" Sil'il thought about this for a moment. "She has recently taken on a new lover that is a powerful wizard, but he has not gained access to the household yet." 

"Alright, then we do not have to worry about him resting anywhere close to her with contingency plans for detecting invisibility, but we do have to worry about the magical wards left behind by the previous patron. I will do my best to find and dispel them. Provided that this goes well, even though they will be in reverie and not in full sleep, my spell should keep you invisible - they, uh, won't see it, or rather _you_ coming. I will set up a telepathic link with you so that I can come to your assistance in the event things go wrong. It will also help us coordinate our escape immediately after the deed is done. It is a taxing thing to keep in place for prolonged periods of time, but well worth it in this case. I will need to prepare multiple spells of lowering magical resistances after I am done with you in case I need to attack. The rest of my mind will need to be free for battle spells. Are we agreed on the strategy?" 

"Agreed." 

"Take what you need from your house. Prepare a knapsack with only the bare necessities, a waterskin, a bedroll, some food. We leave tonight. Oh, and one more thing... I will need a slave... or... someone that can... take your place in the slaughter. We need to leave a third body, otherwise you will be a wanted man and this too may drive the noble families to the surface, although I have my doubts they would expend energies on a male. However, for the sake of the dead Matron Mother and the shame brought upon House Baenre, I feel some uncertainty on what the rest of the House may do. A third body is needed. I will maim it with magic to ensure he is unrecognizable, but your piwafwi with your initials and house insignia should be left behind to identify the remains as yours. Now, I am not a cold-blooded killer - please do me a favor and bring me a slave that is either diseased or destined for death. I am sure there are a number of those to be found around here?" 

"Lochar...my sister's patron will do. He is no slave, but has been praying for death for weeks. It will be a mercy. He has not been faring well since she took on a second boy-toy." 

I shrugged. "As you see fit."

* * *

The wards were difficult but not impossible to dispel. I just hoped I’d managed to detect all the gossamer threads of stray dweomer. A silence spell saved us from a rather nasty magical alarm rig as we moved closer to the sleeping areas. I tried to probe in his mind without him noticing as the telepathic link was established but felt a strange block, like solid wall. I wondered whether spending a lifetime suppressing and hiding your feelings and needs made the mind stronger this way. Once he started stalking the bedchambers of the Matron Mother and her daughter however, his mind opened up, occupied fully as it was with the task at hand. Anxiety, terror even, whirled around in a mad dance. All of his senses were on high alert. I tried to probe deeper, feeling little remorse, my curiosity and interest in him had disinhibited my strange, personal morality. I could read no thoughts, just emotions, strong and animalistic. Hatred and love for his race and people, a combustible mixture that blended seamlessly at first glance, but not without elements of resistance and repulsion at the core. Repressed desires, anger, hunger, loneliness assaulted my senses. I backed off, panting slightly from the effort. What guilt I had not felt when I started this game I experienced now. I don't know what I expected to find, but it was not the intensity of emotions I felt when I dove into his mind. "It is done", I heard him speak inside my mind a short while later. 

As quietly as I could, I dragged the body of Lochar into the bedroom of Sabanna and laid him haphazardly close to the bed. I took a tiny piece of sponge from my bag and started chanting Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting. The body was soon unidentifiable, a wrinkled, perverse mummy, the skin clinging desperately to the bones. "Your piwafwi" I said, without looking at him. He wordlessly removed it, and after giving it a kiss on the hood handed it to me. I cast a cantrip to tatter and scorch it, ensuring the initials and the House insignia remained intact, then dropped it on the bed of Sabanna, close to where the dysmorphed body lay. He silently removed the thin chain with the ring from his neck and clasped it around the neck of the mummified remains of his sister’s lover. "Good thinking… I had not thought of that. Since I am the stranger, I guess all blame will be laid at my feet. By the time they reach Ust Natha to take revenge on House Despana they will find the daughter looks much different to me and the mystery should remain just that. Now we run." I cast a spell that hastened our bodies and we run to the gate I had met him that very morning like the wind.

We crept through the Underdark like thieves for the better part of the night, trying not to rouse any attention from its other denizens. "Which entrance did you come from?" he asked me. 

I pointed straight ahead. "It is not far now, are you tired? I know I am - I haven't slept in more than a day..." 

He shook his head. I wondered whether it was drow pride or stamina that responded. 

"We need to get out of here and find a Sword Dancer portal that will lead us back to Waterdeep. These portals lead refugees loyal to the Dark Maiden to her flock. There is a portal near or inside Menzoberranzan but it leads to the High Forest - we need one that leads to Waterdeep. We shall have to walk for a few days until we can reach it" I said with a sigh. “I had better rest for an hour or two when we reach the mouth of the exit so that I can replenish some of my spells.”

When we finally reached the scraggy mouth leading to the surface I caught sight of him marvelling at the moon. "I have seen her light so few times. Assassins are not useful for surface raids like warriors…" He blinked hard before continuing: _"Ol jivviimir l'solen natha leza."_

Great, my tongues spell had worn off. "Speak common please, I can't understand you. 

He looked surprised for a moment but then repeated "I said, it hurts the eyes a bit... Why can you not understand?" 

His common was lightly accented, alternating between soft and rough sounds in places. I found it rather sensual. "My spell wore off. I don't actually speak drow... Though I can understand a few words and some simple sentences after spending two months being trained day and night by the Eilistraeeans. I could recast the spell of course, but it is pointless. Where we are going you will need to speak common to fit in. No need to make it more difficult upon yourself, your skin will already hinder you enough." 

He pursed his lips with a mixture of determination and irritation. 

"If the moonlight is hurting your eyes, I cannot imagine what the sun will do. I will prepare a darkness spell but be aware that I will need to guide you until your eyes get used to the light. The high priestess gave me a salve, said it speeds up the process of healing and getting used to the light. It used to take about a decade, you know? Not that that is a significant amount of time for us, but still... The Dark Maiden desires her children to enjoy all that the surface has to offer, apparently. The salve should speed up the process to about a month, a miracle cure really by any other name. I am sorry that my magic can help so little, but I have little to offer in ways of healing." He simply nodded and sat down, waiting for me to sit by him and meditate, but there was still one more thing I wanted to do.

I turned my back to him and fished the curse removal scroll from a leather strap tied high up on my thigh. I slowly read the incantation and the cursed ring with the Despana insignia broke in two and fell from my finger. The illusion was broken. I turned around and found him staring at the moon, despite his evident discomfort. He must have felt me looking at him, for he turned his attention to me and drew a sharp intake of breath and sprang to his feet, his hand intuitively reaching for one of his twin blades. "Stop, it's me!" I said, taking a step back. 

He was visibly rattled. I plopped down next to where he had been sitting and took out my spellbook to refresh my mind on the intricacies of darkness - a spell I hardly ever cast. When I noticed he had not sat back down I looked up to him inquisitively and found him staring. He immediately lowered his eyes and mumbled an apology. "It is fine. You can look. Males are allowed to look into the face and eyes of females on the surface even without permission. You have my permission to look at me from now on." His eyes remained lowered, making me realize that acclimatization to our norms would not come easy to him. I did not know enough about how the community of the Promenade dealt with the acculturation of the refugees they received, but clearly, part of the responsibility now fell to me till we reached the city.

"What are you? An… elf?" he finally asked. "I guess you would call me a half-elf, though my background is a bit… complicated. We can... talk about it another time." 

His hand instinctively reached out for my hair before he could stop himself, then quickly dropped with a tremble before it made contact. "It is golden" he whispered. "Ssin'urn..." he added in drow - a word I knew: Beautiful. My hair reached down to my waist, straight and blonde, always worn loose. I wouldn't have called it 'golden' myself, but I was flattered. "And the Lady's grace shines in your eyes, how fortunate for you." 

"At this point I may as well tell you I am not a follower of the Dark Maiden" I responded, although I knew what he meant: My green eyes were flecked with silver, part of my sun elf heritage. 

"You are not? Then why did you come to save me? Why did Lady Silverhair send you?" 

"You already know the answer to that, to stop the plans of House Baenre. _And_ to save you. She really did hear your prayer, you have not been used as a tool. Well, except for the Harpers that is. To them, we have both been tools in this." I sneered. 

"If it wasn't for them, I would still be in Menzoberranzan” he responded and continued: “Please refresh your mind... I wish to get out of here as soon as possible. Trust in my strength to defend against any that approach you while you study." 

I couldn't agree more: I also wanted out of there as soon as possible, so I turned my attention to the book and to the darkness spell and after I was satisfied I had remembered its components I closed the book as well as my eyes and meditated for a while to replenish as many of my memorized spells as possible. 

When I opened my eyes again dawn was starting to break and a faint light was starting to flow into the cavern. I looked at Sil’il and discovered that as I suspected he was already looking pained and distressed. “Quickly, let’s climb out before the sun appears. Once we are out I will throw a shroud of darkness over you, but it is too dangerous to do so now, you need to climb out safely first.” I went first and anxiously looked down as he made his way up in case the light made him lose his footing. Tears were already running down his cheeks and his eyes were looking bloodshot. The moment his boots touched the surface I started chanting, feeling the first of the sun’s rays warming my hands as I raised them above my head and down over his face. An invisible shroud came over him, and he went blind. 

_“A Eilistraee's ssussun!_ ***** I cannot see!” 

“Forgive me, I have cast it targeting your eyes to protect you. Every time I recast it I will tweak it to let a little more light through so that your eyes get used to it. Hold still, I will apply some of the salve the High Priestess gave me.” I wiped his tears with my sleeve and took the little clay pot out of my bag. Carefully, I dipped a finger into the cool salve and applied a thin layer over his eyelids. “Now, take my hand, we start walking.” 

He gritted his teeth. “This is disgraceful!” I slipped my hand over his tightly clenched fist and gently pried his fingers open. I had no response to ease his discomfort, so I took his hand in mine and said “Trust me. By tomorrow you will see a little more. Today will be darkness, tomorrow a little more light. When night comes you will see the moon again. Follow me for now. I will warn you of any changes on the terrain, but I trust your assassin senses will send you enough information through your boots to keep you safe even without my guidance”, I added, hoping to bolster his beaten pride a little bit. His face seemed to visibly relax and he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Melee Magthere:** The warrior school for the drow of Menzoberranzan and one of the three schools that male noble children of the drow were expected to attend. Education would last for about twenty years and beyond combat tactics, drow were also indoctrinated with falsehoods about the surface, especially about elves.
> 
> ***Arach-Tinilith:** The clerical school in the drow city of Menzoberranzan, only attended by females. Males at the end of their education tracks at Melee Magthere (warriors) or Sorcere (mages) would spend six months of training at Arach-Tinilith continuing the "education" that had been forced unto them since birth: The intricacies of female superiority, the worship of Lolth, their being broken until they could perfectly comprehend their position in drow society - that is, at the bottom of it when discounting slaves and other races. Like Melee Magthere and Sorcere, Arach-Tinilith was part of the Tier Breche structure, also known as "the pyramid". 
> 
> ***patron:** A female drow's consort. She can have more than one. Consorts are also called "wiu ste'kol", or "boy-toy". This reflects the drow females' cultural attitude of disrespect and disregard for males by never referring to them as "men", always referring to them as "boys". A drow female who owns more than one male is held with high respect and is referred to as "zigh quarval", or "image of the goddess".
> 
> ***A Eilistraee's ssussun!:** By Eilistraee's light!


	3. Courtship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Divina is pretty docile and pragmatic in this chapter, but that will soon change and escalate to a certain degree.
> 
> Apologies for the very liberal use of drow in this chapter, but Sil'il has just come out of the Underdark and is not used to the surface yet. Translations for everything will be found either at the end-notes or immediately within the text itself if Divina happens to understand him.

We were not at a nice place to be. The safest way back home would be through Moonwood, where we would have to make our way through to reach its southern edge and find the Mouth of Song, a small shrine to Eilistraee where a portal to Waterdeep’s Promenade of the Dark Maiden was still functioning. A silver pin shaped like a sword crossing a crescent moon would function as a key for me, since I was not one of the followers. Moonwood was known to be home to werewolves and I really was not in the mood for additional complications. Unfortunately, since Sil’il had never seen Waterdeep or the Undermountain I had no way to reliably use teleportation to safely transport us in an instant, much as I wished I could. The fact that he couldn’t see anything made me fret and worry, and I dreaded to think what would happen if we were beset by enemies and he could not defend himself. I was reasonably certain his stringent assassin training at Melee Magthere had provided him with the skills to fight blind by sound and instinct for a while, but against how many opponents? A group of vicious werewolves hunting in a pack would severely test his ability to react swiftly without use of his eyes. I needed to move us to a safe location before night fell and the beasts became active.

By dusk we had covered half of the way towards Moonwood and I decided to not go further until daylight, so I started looking for cover instead. I spent a good hour scouting an outcrop of woods at the edge of an old, rocky landslide but found no cave-mouth or shelter. In the end I decided to make a make-shift lean-to with what little I had in my knapsack and started a fire to keep us warm. I left Sil’il by the fire and went to gather a few berries I had seen on some nearby bushes. 

“How are your eyes?” I asked him when I returned. 

“Better. It is good to see the starlight now that your spell has worn off.” 

“Soon the moon will rise and your heart will be glad again” I told him with a smile. I opened the cloth wherein I had gathered the berries and offered him some. He cautiously took one and put it in his mouth, his face brightening like a delighted child. 

“Ssuorr!”* he exclaimed and I laughed. 

“Yes, it is. Wait till you try cherries when we are in Waterdeep. Their season is short, but they are my favorite.” He opened his bag and took out a jar filled with mushrooms and offered it to me at the same time as I was offering him a piece of bread from my own knapsack. We laughed again. 

“Thank you” he said simply, and I knew he wasn’t referring to the bread or berries. 

“You are welcome” I responded, swallowing with some difficulty when faced with the intensity of his violet gaze. I looked away, afraid he would know, afraid he could sense the effect his face suddenly had on me. The fact that I had spent the day holding his warm hand had not helped the situation any. I looked up at the moon that had risen and tried to distract him. “Look” I said, “your lady is awake”. 

“Mmm” was all he said and I didn’t dare look to see if he was looking at the moon or thinking about my weird behavior. I shook my head, deciding that I was over-thinking things and dug into the meagre fare that was our meal to build some energy. We ate in silence for a while and then crawled into our bedrolls to sleep. *****

I woke up before dawn to cast darkness on Sil’il and spare him the pain of the rising sun. He was still peacefully asleep when I started applying the salve on his eyelids, but soon stirred awake from my touch. “Hold still, I am almost done.” 

“I can’t see anything again.” 

“The sun has not come up yet, but you may be able to see a little light shining through today since I have lowered the intensity of the spell. That means that by tonight you may have some discomfort however. I don’t really know – I’ve never dealt with something like this before. Let us stop midway and reapply the salve.” 

I could see he resented this, resented my help, resented feeling helpless, hated being in a position of powerlessness. Most would feel discomfort, relying in this manner upon a stranger, I thought, but for drow it must be even more difficult, going completely against everything they have been taught since they were children. I started gathering our things and to my surprise noted that he had adeptly folded his bedroll and cover and had neatly placed it in his bag despite not being able to see. I marveled at his intent for self-reliance. He lifted his hand towards me, guided by the sounds I made. I took it in my own and started towards Moonwood. 

We walked wordlessly for most of the day, save for a few words of direction from me when we were about to step onto rocky and uneven ground, or when the inclination and direction of our path changed. As we entered the woods we started whispering, afraid of attracting the attention of its denizens. 

“I noticed you travel without weapons… Your illusory self down in Menzoberranzan carried a mace. Was it fake?” 

“Of course. I couldn’t use a mace even if I wanted to. My trade leaves me few options for arming myself, though to be honest with you I have stopped using any weapons as my power has grown. I either use an object to channel my power or I rely on components. It depends on my mood… Besides, this leaves both my hands free to touch the weave as I gesture – it makes my magic much more potent, I feel, though maybe it is just my idea. This time I brought components with me - like the sponge I used back in the Underdark…” 

“Don’t remind me of that…” 

I laughed. “Don’t tell me you balk at sights such as that?! From what I understand your kind thrives on torture and bloodshed.” 

His sudden silence told me I had most likely offended him. 

“I am sorry.” I bit my lip. “This is why I am not very likeable… I say too many things, don’t have too many friends, though I do have a few. A big mouth that runs with itself without thinking unless I am trying to trick a foe…” 

“There _is_ a reason why I wanted to leave, you know? …But… don’t speak about yourself that way. It is a disservice to you and it is unnecessary.”

That evening we were lucky, we managed to find a cave and after casting a spell to ensure it was not already inhabited, we entered and made ourselves a fire by the entrance for warmth. We placed our bedrolls next to each other in the rather narrow and shallow cave and we silently shared another piece of my bread and some of his mushrooms, as well as some preserved chestnuts boiled in honey I had brought with me. Neither of us were really full by the time we were done, but we needed to make our food last at least one more day. At the very least we had found some spring water to replenish our waterskins early in the afternoon. 

“How are your eyes?” I asked, looking at him. 

“Surprisingly fine” he said. 

It was true: They were no longer bloodshot and the rims which had been slightly swollen the day before had gone back to normal. Unwittingly, I felt my heart as well as my breath quicken again as I looked into his eyes. Why did he have this effect on me? I quickly looked away and tried to think of something else.

“…Would you like to be touched…?” he asked quietly after a short pause. 

My heart throbbed and then felt as though it stopped altogether. _He knows_ , I thought with alarm. _He knows_. Smell? I wondered. 

Then his breath was on my neck and he whispered in my ear “…Would you like my touch? …May I approach you…?” 

An emboldened yet still rather cautious question, typical yet atypical for his race and gender, my rational mind thought, even as my body was rapidly responding to his advances: A heat was spreading gently and evenly between my legs. “Mmm…” I responded, which he correctly interpreted as agreement, and then his lips were on my neck, trailing warm, soft kisses up its side until my earlobe was reached and softly tugged between his lips. His hands reached forward over my shoulders and found the fabric belt of my mage robe, undoing the knot easily and then pushing the fabric from my shoulders with his warm palms. The high-thread silk cloth fell to the floor with a swish, and my body was bared naked. His palms gently pulled me back, cushioning my head on his lap and he leaned over to kiss me. His hair was silky as it fell forward on my face, like a curtain hiding the sinful union of our lips from a world that was not there to see it anyway. His plush lips felt soft, and when his tongue tentatively probed mine I eagerly opened my mouth to receive him. He was warm and tender, cautious in a way that made me hunger for more. I reached back with my hands and tugged at his tunic rather futilely, and he relieved me from the task by removing it himself, breaking the kiss only to pass it from his head.

Soundlessly, like a cat, he moved in front of me and started laying kisses on my chest, which was getting cold from the night breeze. Every single spot his lips touched quickly felt ablaze, and as he took my right nipple in his mouth to trace a soft circle around it with his tongue I felt the same fire building from within and rising to my cheeks, making me feel feverish. I tried to lift his face close to me for a kiss but he was already trailing a path of kisses down my stomach whispering “Sel'turi, sel'turi, Usstan tsoss dos... Jal dosst ssinssrine ph'ussta ehmtu…” *****

The breath accompanying each meaningless word felt hot and wet on my skin, and when he reached my pubic bone and gave a playful bite I had to force myself to not yelp with yearning. My sex throbbed with every heartbeat, and as I lifted my head slightly to look at him, I found him stealing a glance at my face, gauging my reaction to his advances. I let my head fall back on my bedroll and next thing I knew his warm tongue was between my lower lips, licking me gently. 

“Dos tyav ssinjin…” ***** he murmured, and the movement of his lips sent a new ripple of pleasure through my belly. 

Too quick… he is too well trained I thought, as I felt my body tensing. His tongue immediately responded, becoming stiffer and swifter and I was unable to delay the inevitable. “Mmmnnn…Uuuungggghh!” my primal grunts resounded through the cave. He gave me a kiss that made my oversensitive spot tingle almost painfully. 

“Would you like me to continue?” he asked softly as his body shifted upwards to face me. I could feel him hard under his soft leather leggings. I nodded wordlessly, feeling myself wet through. He got up and slowly removed his boots, then his crossed belts and sheathed short-swords, then finally slipped out of his leggings. I couldn’t help but raise myself on my elbows to better look at him – his tightly sculpted body, lithe and slim, his toned chest and abdomen, full of bruises and little scars. He laid quietly on top of me and slid the tip of his hardness up and down between my slippery lower lips, knowing exactly how to get my body ready again. His mouth found my own and I could taste myself on his tongue, on his breath, on his lips. Salty and sweet, too intimate, as though he had stolen one of my secrets.

He shifted his body almost imperceptibly and slid inside me, eliciting a tiny gasp from my lips and a muffled groan from his. I opened my eyes to look at his face and saw his tightly shut with pleasure before he opened them again to look into mine. For the second time that day, my body reacted to his violet gaze and I felt myself tightening around him and in response he buried his face in my chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and suckling it. I suddenly took stock of his dark skin on mine, his white hair, the tangle of our embraced arms, our heaving chests, and the stark contrast of the colors of our skin struck me as utterly perverse. I panicked for a moment, realizing what I was doing, with a _drow_. Unimaginable. Against all I had been taught, against all the rules. My breath caught in my throat with something akin to cold dread and fear, but as his eyes glanced up at me with soft concern I felt my heart melting and I gave in to the sensations. He felt so good inside of me, as though he belonged there… No other thoughts made sense. As his face changed position to take my other nipple into his warm mouth I felt the pleasure swelling inside me and my body repeatedly clenching around him as my toes curled up and my nails dug into his back.

He suddenly stopped thrusting and became very still. He was panting heavily and as his chest came to rest on mine I could feel his heart beating at a maddening pace. I caressed his hair. "...No good...?" I asked him softly, trying to make sense of what was happening, but couldn't help but feel slightly dejected. Thoughts raced in my head. I had thought our attraction was mutual, but perhaps I had misinterpreted. He had been trained to please, after all. I was his guide on the surface, a position of power for as long as he still depended on me, moreover he could _smell_ my needs. I could certainly understand why, culturally speaking, this would be a normal situation for him. And, truth be told, normally I wouldn't mind that much. But for whatever reason, this did sting a bit. I bit my lower lip and tried to ensure no signs of my discomfort appeared on my face as he lifted his to look into mine. His eyes looked bewildered. 

"What do you mean?" he managed, still panting. 

How to answer this? I thought the situation was self-explanatory. "...you, uh, ... stopped." 

"But if I didn't... it would be too late..." I felt him begin to thrust again, gently, slowly, pacing himself, a strained look on his face. 

"Too late for what? ...Listen, you can stop if this is not to your liking...!" I felt my eyebrows furrow, a look of indignation surely gracing my face as I spoke. 

He looked up at me again and I could see a flash of anguish pass from his eyes, quickly suppressed and gone as fast as it had come. "You have not given me permission to either stop or indulge myself." he said in a calm voice that betrayed no feeling. 

Gods. He needed permission for that? My hand, still in his hair, grabbed a handful and painfully yanked his face close enough for a biting kiss. "Indulge yourself, you foolish, beautiful _jaluk_ *****." 

I heard him gasp and felt his tightly tensed body loosening, becoming softer and heavier on me. His hands found my breasts where he clung for purchase, squeezing and moaning as his thumbs every so often passed over my nipples which had started getting excited again. His thrusts became frantic and quickly I felt his body shiver and shake as he throbbed inside me, pressing his face in my neck and stifling his cry of pleasure down to a low whimper. He kept shivering on top of me for a while longer, then rolled away from me unceremoniously and laid on his back, his eyes closed, his lithe, wiry frame looking vulnerable as his chest kept rising and falling rapidly from his ragged breathing. When his breathing slowed, his violet eyes turned to look at me. "Bel'la dos, ssin'urn jalil..." ***** he murmured earnestly. 

"Thank you as well." I smiled. 

The familiar look of confusion passed from his eyes again, only to be quickly replaced by resignation borne from exhaustion. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, and after I pulled a thin cover from my knapsack to cover our naked forms, so did I.

I woke up to find him looking at me the next morning and, slightly paranoid, - he _was_ after all drow, a little, uninvited voice of suspicion whispered in the back of my head - I quickly sat up, the cover falling from my chest and exposing my naked breasts. He opened his hands which were cupping something to reveal a little silver hoop earring with a pale amethyst stone. I recognized it as one of the many that graced his right ear. "I am sorry I do not have any of my more precious possessions with me. We left with just the clothes on my back. But... this is the most precious thing I have on me. It is the first earring I made. I like to work with metal when I get time to do so..." his voice trailed off. Oh no. I knew about this from the training. ***** I took his hand in mine and closed the fingers back over the earring. "I cannot accept this..." 

He blinked rapidly a few times before saying "...you have mated with me... Usstan tlun dossta!" *****

I did not know all the words, but I didn't have to. The cultural ritual had been explained in the training. "No. That's not how it works up here. We do not own people. You are not mine, you are your own..." He looked crestfallen. "That doesn't mean you are _on_ your own." I hastened to add. "I am still going to fulfil my promise. I am taking you to safety. There is no cause for worry." I smiled at him reassuringly.  
He looked down at the little earring in his hands but did not put it back on. Eventually he got up from the bedroll and dropped it in the front pocket of his knapsack. Gracefully, he came back to sit cross-legged next to me as I blindly reached back into my own knapsack to find my small leather pouch. I extracted a small piece of paper folded into a neat shape and tore at its edge letting the white powder within drop into my mouth. My eyes teared and my face contorted from the bitterness. I reached back again and grabbed my waterskin, taking a large gulp to relieve myself from the vile taste. He snatched the paper I had dropped on the covers, opened it carefully and sniffed it. He then looked at me dumbfounded. "You... you would kill precious life? This poison would only be given to slaves to keep them working! W-why did you ask for my seed...?"

I groaned and fell back onto the bedroll, letting my arm rest on my eyes for a moment. I had never before experienced a morning-after acculturation lesson and I could feel a headache coming on. Still, his helpless confoundment tugged at my heartstrings so I sat up again, this time pulling the cover around my breasts. I wondered where to begin explaining, then settled on the first part of his question. "Sil'il..." I sighed, "things are different up here... Life is not so precarious as it is in the Underdark. We do not feel that procreation is a... duty to ensure our survival. We, uh, do not need to keep repopulating our cities, simply because we do not kill each other at the rates you do. These things... come more naturally. Out of people's wish for children. Ideally. Or need for an heir perhaps, depending on the situation. Not to mention we have no endless supply of servants and slaves to serve as nannies for our offspring while we go off doing what must be done. Things must be planned more carefully." I pulled my knees close to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. The conversation was making me feel rather uncomfortable - and I have spoken with chromatic dragons, multiple times even.

I paused and searched his eyes for signs of understanding. He seemed to be pondering my words carefully. A look of acceptance settled on his features but it was not long before it was clouded over by suspicion. He let out a rough curse in drow and looked at me angrily. "Or is it that you suddenly found the idea of a _fa'la zatoast_ \- a dark-skinned bastard growing inside you repugnant?" 

I marveled at his sudden turn from humility to intense anger - a side of him I had yet to see - and felt decidedly unpleasant, regretful that our beautiful night had culminated to this. I shook my head and laughed bitterly, my own eyes gaining a cold edge to them. "I know more about bastards than you would know and my upbringing has left me bereft of worry or care about what others might think about me, my choices and any potential offspring I might bear! Though I should tell you, Waterdeep is quite tolerant, with a small but strong community of dark elves. This is where we are going, remember? I suggest you do not make quick assumptions about me in the future." 

I caught him lowering his eyes again and felt exasperated at my own inadequacy to make this conversation better. I reached out a hesitant hand to touch his cheek. He startled, but did not pull back. "As for the second part of your question..." I started, and he raised his eyes to look into mine "I wanted your warmth... I wanted you to feel pleasure... I wanted to feel close to you at the moment of your release..." I wondered if any of this made sense to a male drow. His eyes looked frantic with an unidentified emotion and I instinctively drew him into an embrace. 

"Dos phuul morfelith uns'aa noa ussta shar...!" ***** he whispered. I had no idea what he was saying, the only thing I knew was that I could feel his heart pounding through his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Ssuorr!:** delicious
> 
>  ***Regarding sleep** : Only drow with dark hearts reverie. Good-hearted drow sleep.
> 
>  ***Sel'turi, sel'turi, Usstan tsoss dos... Jal dosst ssinssrine ph'ussta ehmtu…:** Softly, softly, I kiss you... All your desires are my own…
> 
>  ***Dos tyav ssinjin…:** You taste sweet…
> 
>  ***jaluk:** male. Conversely, **jalil:** female
> 
>  ***Bel'la dos, ssin'urn jalil...:** Thank you, beautiful female
> 
>  ***"Oh, no, I knew about this from the training.":** Divina refers to her knowledge about this drow custom: Part of the courtship ritual, drow relationship is symbolized by the person who obtains and keeps the item of another. Drow put great emotional significance on the possession of another's item, it is the way they "symbolize" a relationship. While a man may have only one owner, (i.e., the woman that took his item) a woman may have the items of more than one man. A drow female who owns more than one male is held with high respect and is referred to as "zigh quarval", or "image of the goddess". Once a male has been taken as a mate, he is known as owned; and once mating has taken place, he is known as **permanently owned** , a point that becomes immediately relevant when Sil'il next reaction is considered.
> 
>  ***Usstan tlun dossta!:** I am yours!
> 
>  ***Dos phuul morfelith uns'aa noa ussta shar...!":** You're making me lose my mind...!


	4. Silver

“Can you see anything at all today?” I had once again lowered the intensity of the darkness spell. 

“Only differences between shades of darkness, light and shadow… The salve has blurred my vision… Even if I could see, it would have been hazy.” 

I nodded, even though he could not see. “Just one more night. Then we should reach the Mouth of Song.” 

“You seem to be guiding us quite quickly through the forest. How is it that you can find your way in these parts?” 

“I grew up not far from here. I am from the High Forest… Or something like that” I grimaced. 

“Curious, this tale of yours. A half-elf, but not a half-elf… Strange allusions about intimate knowledge of what it is like, being a… bastard… A childhood in the forest of the cruel High Elves…” 

I stopped in my tracks. “ _You_ call the sun elves cruel? I have heard that your masters indoctrinate you inside the Academy, but you are an Eilistraeean, shouldn’t you know better than that?” He bumped into my back as I had suddenly stopped moving. 

“I am sorry” he said and I was not entirely certain whether he was referring to the fact that he had bumped into me or for his thoughtless words. 

“It doesn’t matter. You are right. They are cruel. Or… I guess haughty and insensitive would be more accurate, though I am sure they would deny all three charges. Still. Compared to drow they are positively celestial in virtue.” My hand flew to my eyes automatically, covering them in exasperation with myself. “No. I… What I mean is…” “I know what you mean. It is fine. Let’s just keep moving.”

We kept going mutely for a while, until I finally broke the silence. “We were also indoctrinated you know. Not just you… I am still trying to master my prejudice, I won’t pretend I am pure in all of this. Living in Waterdeep has gone a long way in learning to accept differences. Which sounds ridiculous even to my own ears considering I have never really fit in anywhere, being who I am. What I am…” I felt an almost impalpable squeeze from his hand to mine. Our palms had started sweating from holding each other all morning, and even under the shade of the trees the exercise from our relatively brisk pace had made our hands warm and sticky. 

“Will you tell me your tale tonight then, when we sit down to eat? When night has fallen and I can look at you?” 

I swallowed hard and paused a moment before answering. “It is not a nice tale.” 

“I do not know any nice tales. The only nice tale I know is that I have been outside looking at the stars for two nights and that I was told sweet words this morning. I am not looking for a nice tale. It is not what I know to expect.” 

His words stabbed me a bit, reminded me of my thanklessness. My life was certainly not bad. My adventures had made me relatively rich, though coin had a way of slipping out of my hands as quickly as it came into them, either to fund the Funambulists – the organization I had founded, or to buy luxuries that allowed me to fit in a little bit better in Waterdeep, or, most often, to buy new gear for myself and my travelling companions. Most importantly, I had made a nice home for myself, a place where I could rest. I could have a peaceful life should I choose to, perhaps. Only inside me peace refused the welcome invitation, month after month, year after year. “Yes. Until tonight then, if you wish to listen.”

We found no shelter nor purchase for a lean-to that night. We would have to take turns sleeping in order to avoid ambush in case our fire was seen, or worse, in case our flesh was smelled and found appetizing. I loathed starting a fire in this part of the woods, so close to werewolf territory but even Mirtul ***** nights were quite cold so far up North and it would take a few weeks yet for summer to arrive. We rummaged in our bags for whatever food we had left and started eating quietly. Sil’il mostly looked down, his long eyelashes hiding his thoughts from me. I didn’t dare break the silence while he seemed so pensive so I ate my food quietly as well. 

When he saw me grabbing my waterskin for a drink he finally looked up into my eyes and smiled a little. “I am ready for a tale that wasn’t right.” 

The fire cast long shadows on his face preventing me from knowing exactly what he was thinking, and I felt apprehensive for a moment, letting my swig of water swirl around my mouth to buy myself some time. Finally, I sighed, facing the inevitable. I did not want to break my promise no matter how unpleasant the story was.

My mother was human, a powerful mage obsessed with longevity, like so many of them tend to be. Still youthful and fecund at over a hundred -most likely the result of a Clone spell, thought I will never really know- she felt her own end draw near, whispered to her as she tangled and untangled the weave, scrying into an unknowable future few humans manage to glimpse. Her failure at prolonging her life just like the legends of old drove her mad, or so they say. I have no better explanation for the plots she hatched or what she did, nor would I really care to find out, even if I could. She got it in her mind that she needed an heir, Gods know why since she had not desired to be with child or a man for decades. That heir should have what she did not, a long, long life. Time to learn all that she couldn’t, time to build powers others could only dream of. She was an excellent spellcrafter, adept at making scrolls and potions, but most of all, at coming up with new spells. Two of the most modern and sought-after spells in every wizard’s spellbook bear her name. And those are not mere tweaks: No, she had the talent to manipulate the weave into original creations. For this desire too, she crafted a new spell – understanding perhaps that all her failed experiments with her own body would find success in a life yet unborn.

She seduced a sun elf, Randolf – whether with a charm or her own allure I do not know - to conceive a child with blood blessed with lasting longevity attributes. But how to suppress her own human nature in this child? How to enhance those attributes of the father to their full potential in a child that wasn’t pure elf? The spell she crafted as an answer called for the most noble of good and pure ovum. She had not chosen Randolf randomly. Yes, he was endowed with powerful potential for magic like all sun elves, a potential he would combine with hers to pass on to the heir. But more importantly, he was also the head of a family chosen by a noble Silver. The kindly Silver dragons foolishly choose to spend most of their lives in human or elven form, close to a community or family they make their own. Elves are most often chosen, since the dragon can enjoy the company of their friendship for much of their life together, humans do die so quickly after all, and only the lucky ones pass on their good heart to a child or grandchild the dragon might meet again in order to see the old friend’s eyes looking back at them. She was a female and had laid a clutch hundreds of years ago, before going to live with Randolf’s family, waiting to brood it when the time was just right. She had revealed her true self to the family and this is how my mother came to find out every detail about her. She stole the clutch and used the eggs for her despicable spell, enhancing my lifespan to match that of her elven consort.

I do not remember her much at all. I think her name was Moira, but I remember nothing of her appearance save her soft, incredibly white skin and lustrous hair. Then a skeletal form took over. Moira had gotten her wish after all: Lichdom was the answer, as it so often is with unscrupulous mages that cling to life with all their might. They say that I was desperately hungry and soiled when the ruined Silver finally found Moira and, in extension, me. I guess liches stop caring for the living. The great dragon destroyed her phylactery and then her heinous form and took me with her, back to her elven family in High Forest. Such is the kindness of a Silver. She had no name that she shared with me. To me she was only ‘mother’. The elves called her ‘our Lady’. 

“I will die soon, my child” she used to tell me when I was old enough to understand. “My heart is broken and now I wither. I have forty, maybe fifty years to live. Ah, do you know my sweet child? This means I have to teach you all I can in the space of what, for my kind, seems like but a few years' time. Then I must part from you, my beloved.” 

Who knows what my name was before she found me. I am not sure I ever heard it spoken. Perhaps my biological mother only called me her babe before she turned to undeath to fulfil her dreams. The Silver mother called me Divina d’Argenti, taking care to give me a last name so that I could walk proudly among humans and elves alike. “It means Divina of the Silvers, don’t forget”, she used to tell me as she nuzzled me softly at night, cradling me to sleep.

She had felt her death coming with stunning accuracy. Fifty years later, when I was fifty-five she felt her broken heart giving out. It was the first and last time I saw her true form, for I was too young to remember the shock of my rescue from the lich. It smelt like rain, when she appeared in all her glory, glimmering as though she would never age. Before she left us, she turned to me and said in draconic: “You who have been blessed by my misfortune know that I never bore you any ill will. I have loved you like the ones that were taken from me. My only regret is not being able to see you grow into a beautiful adult. Such sorrow it is to have to part from one so young. Now take the elves and leave my lair, for I wish to die in peace.” I turned to the family with whom she had spent the last five hundred years of her life with and translated her wish for solitude. Glumly, we left the lair we had never seen before and returned to the High Forest.

Life was not easy after that. The family had been kind enough while the Silver mother was alive but her death – either due to grief or freedom to express what they’d never dared – turned their attitudes relatively quickly. I had one half-sister, Ciel, who I treasured. She was already a hundred by the time I was born and I idolized her. After the Silver mother died, it was not just the family’s, but indeed much of the elven community’s reactions towards me that changed. The children I was taught with started calling me ‘carrion child’. It was a name that stuck and soon even adults were using it, without much thought or menace, though I found it unbearable. Later, I discovered it was my half-sister who started it. I wish I was one of those people with big warm hearts that can say “I cannot blame them though” and mean it, but I am not. All I can see is that I had no part in the crime done against their community. I had no part in the heartbreak that took their Silver away from them. If the unborn are not blameless, then how can we even begin to forgive those that truly transgress against us? Eventually, I found myself isolated at almost all times – the only periods of happiness were when I was learning magic. I was a prodigy, inheriting both my mother’s talent as well as the inherent sun elven aptitude for it. And if there is anything that the sun elves appreciate, it is magic. I had plenty of that. My fingers crackled with the spark even when I was first brought to the Forest. My education begun as soon as I could understand elven well enough, my teacher switching to common whenever necessary despite how vile he found the practice.

And still, despite possessing a skill valued above all others, still I was not good enough. I never would be. You see, despite having the longevity of an elf thanks to Moira’s spellcraft, my physiology was still decidedly half-elven. Mentally, I was maturing much faster than the elven children. My human heritage too, gave me a drive, impatience and thirst for both knowledge and action that the elves considered an aberration. Where they would wait and ponder, I would act. Where they would sit and admire, I would tend and attempt to improve. Where they would reverie, I would sleep. Crude, alien, a thief of a valued family member and friend, a child of carrion and vile necromancy, unable to reach the heights of sun-elven sophistication even if I kept trying for centuries. The crude drive of my humanity would not be denied. At just eighty years old, still rather young by half-elven standards, and certainly a child by elven standards, I chose to leave. My Silver mother had spoken to me of a place where all knowledge was kept, knowledge the Silvers valued. What she could not teach me, she hoped I one day found there. Mostly, she hoped I met some humans – perhaps in all her wisdom foreseeing my difficulties adjusting to the High Forest without her benign protection.

“If you had looked a little bit less like him, maybe they would have found it in their hearts to love you a little better” my magic teacher told me as he escorted me back to the house after I had informed him of my decision to leave. “As it stands, you are a constant reminder of Randolf’s death at your mother’s hands when he tried to protect the eggs…” 

I shook my head. “And they would have loved me better if I had looked like his killer?”

He had no response for that. “Let us stop by my house child. Your mother foresaw this day and instructed me to leave you a few things she chose for you from her hoard.” 

I waited outside his door as he went in to fetch a large velvet pouch in royal blue. I opened it immediately, knowing what to expect: Silvers’ favorite hoard is comprised mostly of jewelry. A diamond-encrusted tiara and her favorite ring – a huge cabochon sapphire embraced by two rows of diamonds swirling around it. The third item was not a jewel, but a book: “ _A History of Silvers in Faerun_ ” read the title, and each page inside was covered in my mother’s neat script. 

I looked back to my master’s face. “Take the jewels and give me their equivalent in coin. If you don’t have it, take them to the queen. I will keep the book. I will come back for the coin in two days’ time, right before I leave. 

He looked appalled. “You are a cruel child.” 

“Yes.” I answered. What did he know? What meaning would an explanation offer to either of us? I knew what my mother intended. The money would be my fare, my nest-egg as I embarked into the unknown. Her precious writing, my entrance into Candlekeep, the place she encouraged me to visit. The place where I could continue my magical education with tomes unavailable to all but the most powerful of mages. And perhaps I would find an education of the other sort, one that I was certain she valued far more than furthering my magic: Meeting others who might educate me in the matters of the world where she and the elven community could not. You cannot enter Candlekeep without giving up an exceedingly rare tome to add to their collection. She had just given me the key.

Sil’il stayed silent for a long time. When he finally spoke he simply asked: “You will take the first watch, yes? The werewolves hunt at night and your magic shall be better at dealing with packs.” 

I nodded, relieved at being given the chance to calm down before, or even instead of answering any questions. One thing the drow did right, I guessed, was to save face. With pride preservation so important, where a human might offer warm sympathy, they offered cool acceptance. I was slightly shocked, but strangely grateful. 

“Then, may I lay my head in your lap as you keep watch?” 

“Yes” I answered, throwing two more logs in the almost dying embers of the fire before sitting back down and patting my legs for him. “My story was long. Better sleep quickly.” 

He curled up close to the fire, his head on my lap. My chest was throbbing painfully from the intensity of having recounted my story and I found the closeness of his presence a mercy. I reached out to touch his hair and ease him to sleep faster, but with assassin senses he grabbed my hand even with his eyes closed and threaded his fingers into mine. Then he kept it on his shoulder while he slept, our arms forming a strange scarf of light and dark flesh around the crux of his neck.

We reached the Mouth of Song late in the afternoon the next day. Once inside the cave I dispelled the darkness from Sil’il’s eyes and looked around for a priestess. The crowd gathered within was mostly drow, but I also spotted a small number of half-elves and a few dwarves. 

“Welcome!” exclaimed the head priestess, finding us first. “We have been expecting you! We were hoping you would arrive yesterday, we had begun to worry a little…” And with that she turned her amber eyes to Sil’il, taking his hands in hers and excitedly, with the melodic tones so common to Moon Dancers, she started talking to him in drow. “Dos ph'al'doer udossta dalninuk! Du'ased dos inbal tlus a Eilistraee's l'inya pholor dos! Lu'udos wun shar'tleg ph'du'ased ulu tlu d'klath'ra ulu jal nindel ssrig'luin ol. Doer, doer!" ***** Sil’il turned to look at me as she dragged him away to introduce him to the other Moon Dancers of the shrine, still chattering excitedly in drow. 

A half-elf approached me quietly from behind. “Please do not think our priestess discourteous. We have been very excited to receive one who has performed a duty in Eilistraee’s name. Word of his intended deeds has reached us from the Promenade via visitations from the portal. Has your work been successful? Has disaster been averted?” 

“Yes, you can put your minds at ease. Not only are we here and well, but Sil’il’s blades have struck true.” 

The auburn-haired man smiled gladly at me and linked his arm with mine. “What jubilant news our guests bring! Come, I am sure you are hungry. We are soon to sit down for supper. Have you ever joined an Eilistraeean meal? If not, prepare to have both your stomach as well as your heart satiated! We will feast and listen to music, and then we shall sing the joys of the day.” 

“Ah, yes… Thank you. Food would be welcome. We have been rationing these past days on the road and both of us are hungry.” Right on cue my belly let out a loud rumble. “Sorry!” I exclaimed, but he just squeezed our linked arms tighter and burst out in laughter. 

“Come, come. Let us go eat!”

The small community numbered about fifty souls, including the clergy – this was a tiny shrine compared to the grand Waterdhavian Promenade. As such, the evening feast was a rather intimate affair, with much talking, laughing, and humming along to the music. Common was preferred to accommodate the half-elves and dwarves, but small rings of drow sitting close to each other would often erupt in a funny story in their own language. Sil’il was sitting far away from me, surrounded by the priestesses like a guest of honor. Perhaps it was better this way, I thought, since by the evening we would have to part ways: He to his new community at the Promenade and me, finally at home after two months’ absence. My belly full, my mind finally had enough recourse to roam towards practical thoughts, like whether any of my close Slackliner associates, or perhaps my washerwoman had remembered to air my house while I was gone.

A loud clap from the head priestess and the joyful banter eased into a comfortable silence. “My friends. The stars have come out. It is time to go outside the cave and dance under their light in Evensong!” *****

Everyone got up at once and started filing out of the cave. I wondered why we were not being shown to the portal, why we were being delayed, but when I searched the crowd for Sil’il’s eyes I only found a look that betrayed excitement. Of course… This is what he had been waiting for, praying for all this time. I decided that waiting a while longer wouldn’t do much harm and could anyway not see a non-offensive way to broach the topic of our leaving without breaching etiquette during their nightly ritual. I shrugged to myself and followed them outside. They took turns dancing and singing a short poem that reflected their feelings, mostly about their day, sometimes about life in general. Most were joyous and some were even funny, eliciting laughter and mirth from their friends. I sat to the side, hugging my knees, feeling completely awkward. As an outsider to the church, I had only heard about this practice during my two-month training. I was rather certain Sil’il had never participated either – for where would he have gotten the chance to do so in the Underdark? – but he took to it like a duck to water and sung of the beauty of freedom, giving thanks to the stars and the grass underneath his feet, raising his short swords to the sky in a short dance. I smiled as I watched him, feeling joy for playing a part in his release from a life he did not want.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, the head priestess danced towards me and took my hands in hers, lifting me up from my spot on the ground. “We have not heard from you yet, my Lady’s champion of liberty! You must regale us with your song.” 

“No, no” I shook my head in mild terror. “I have no idea what to do, and I fear my glum heart is not a good match for the euphoric revelries of the Dark Maiden…” 

“Our Lady welcomes all feelings true. Express yourself my sister, you cannot be the only one outside the circle! You must join us.” 

The only one outside the circle… There was a metaphor in there to match my life, I thought, even though she could not have known it. “Al…Alright… But I cannot dance on my first try… Let me just raise my voice in song.” 

She nodded gleefully at having successfully brought me to the center of the circle.

I closed my eyes to block out the view of the eyes focused upon me, to stop the nervousness from taking over. I sure was out of my element. Were I at the Cynosure Ball ***** in Waterdeep I would revel in the attention of the people, armored in finery and playing a role that’d be my shield. Here, I was asked to bare my soul. I found my hands had pressed themselves in the center of my chest of their own accord, and I opened my mouth to sing in a mournful melody that spontaneously sprung from my lungs:

“My mother has forgotten my name,  
my child doesn't know my name yet.  
How should I feel cherished?

Call me, acknowledge my existence,  
let my name be like a chain.  
Call me, call me, speak to me,  
oh, call me with my deepest name.

For those I love, I want to have a name.” *****

A silence fell upon the company and I did not dare to open my eyes and find them looking at me. Then suddenly I felt hands grasping mine from either side and found myself just one of many in a mad whirling dance as the priestesses sung rhythmic melodies to the night sky, the revelers closing the ceremony with a dance to the stars.

* * *

When we stepped through the portal and into the Promenade we found the great hall quiet and empty, save for the head priestess with a few of her acolytes holding vigil for our impending arrival in the late hours of the night. Their dawn ritual was early, and the community fast asleep, saving their energies for another day filled with religious ceremonies and communal activities. Activities foreign to most races, seeing as drow religiosity bordered on the extreme. Despite the moving effects of the Eilistraeean rites I had just been part of, I did not think I could live life like this every single day. It would be akin to imprisonment to ritual and devotion, predictable, a life devoid of adventure. I suddenly found myself feeling sorry for having been separated from my ward for most of the evening. We had barely spoken a word to each other since our arrival at the Mouth of Song, and now it was already time for goodbye. How strange, I thought, how intimate three or four days can be, when you can spend decades with others never really knowing them at all. I shook my head, trying to dispel the thoughts of my elven family from my mind. 

I turned to Sil’il and forced a smile. “Goodbye. They are waiting for you. I will go home now.” 

He looked slightly shocked, as though the realization of our parting had hit him for the first time. I planted a light kiss on his cheek before he had the chance to respond and teleported myself in front of my house with a spell. “I’m home!” I softly called to no one as I unlocked the door. Time for a bath, time for a bath. No time to think. Tomorrow is soon enough for thoughts and plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Mirtul:** Spring month in the Harptos Calendar, the equivalent of May.
> 
> ***Dos ph'al'doer udossta dalninuk! Du'ased dos inbal tlus a Eilistraee's l'inya pholor dos! Lu'udos wun shar'tleg ph'du'ased ulu tlu d'klath'ra ulu jal nindel ssrig'luin ol. Doer, doer!:** You are welcome our brother. Blessed you have been by Eilistraee’s gaze upon you. And we in turn are blessed to be of service to all that need it. Come, come! 
> 
> ***Evensong:** The Evensong was an intimate ritual that all followers of Eilistraee performed at the end of their day. It was a message to the goddess (usually involving a personal dance and song) in which they let out all the emotions, experiences and reflections that they had gathered in the day, so that Eilistraee could listen to them.
> 
> ***Cynosure Ball:** Lliira's Night: A celebration honoring the Lady of Joy with dances and balls, held once a year on the night of Flamerule 7. Although the celebration was shared all over the city in many specially rented halls, the highlight of the night was the Cynosure Ball, which was sponsored by the Lords, the local clergy of Lliira, and several noble families.
> 
> ***My Mother Has Forgotten my Name:** Poem by Neeltje Maria Min. Translation from Dutch to English by Robert Sibie)


	5. Chosen

I woke up groggy, my body finally catching up to the fact that I had spent the better part of the past week either sleepless or sleeping on a thin bedroll on the ground. My legs hurt from all the walking too – save for my encounter with Phlegeth and the dragon hunters, it had been a while since I had gone away from the city chasing after adventure, as I had decided to spend the better part of winter at home and in libraries, studying, trying to further my craft. I had achieved some good results, tweaked some of my spells to suit my battle needs better, and invested quite a bit of time in mastering the feats that were granted to me by my increased access to the weave as I accrued power during my last travels. Now, after the inaction of winter, everything suddenly felt painful and sore. “Mmpphh” I groaned in my pillow, not wanting to get up. The light flooding in through the windows of the balcony doors could not be denied however. Summer is coming, huh, I thought as I reluctantly got up.

Having freshened up and gotten dressed, I started unpacking my knapsack, placing the bedroll, covers and various cloths in a neat pile for my washerwoman. As I fished to the bottom of the bag I found a stray honeyed chestnut had stuck to the tightly woven fabric. Damn it! I thought – now the bag had to be washed as well. I took out my little leather pouch and dumped the bag on top of the rest of the wash. I opened my pouch to check for remaining ingredients for spells that required a material component and grabbed my ledger from my study to note down the amounts that needed replenishing. I emptied the pouch on the table, and that’s when it caught my eye, glinting in the morning sun: His little silver hoop, adorned with a simple amethyst, the stone milky and impure, charming in its unassuming nature. I picked it up and fingered it gently between my thumb and index finger. So… he had left it for me anyway, I thought. I sighed deeply and got up from my chair, went down the stairs to the parlor and took a bottle from the cupboard, then went back upstairs and spiced my morning tea with a good dose of elven gooseberry brandy. The sour, strong flavor hit the back of my throat and my empty stomach in good order. My right ear was pierced once at the lobe and once in the middle, right at the cartilage on the edge. I removed the tiny fire opal stud from the upper piercing and replaced it with his little silver hoop. I sighed again, and after taking another sip of my spiced tea, irritably put my ledger away and flew outside the house.

I walked from my house to the West Gate and entered the city proper, turning north at the Street of the Singing Dolphin and west again on the Street of Glances. Three doors down from Mystra’s Arms, and hidden behind the front row of houses, I knocked on the teal door of a medium-sized two-storied building. 

“Wah-hey! You’re back!” I heard the enthusiastic voice I was praying for and felt strong arms enfold me in an embrace. 

“Marcus!” I sighed. “I am glad to see you.” He laughed and dragged me inside. “Is anybody else here?” 

“Just a couple of new faces – I’ll introduce you later – and Artemis. Let’s go upstairs, catch up. We can speak with the new recruits when we are done. It’s morning still, I am surprised to see you here so early to be honest.” 

“Mmm.” I said noncommittally. “Lead the way then.”

Marcus is one of the few persons I call “friend”. A half-elf like me, he understands well the tension of not easily fitting in with any culture, and the need for making a niche of one’s own, a place to feel safe. After I gave up the leadership of the Funambulists a short three years after founding the organization, he gladly stepped in and took over in my stead and has been making a hell of a job of it for the past ten years. Under him, the organization has experienced growth I could never have foreseen in my wildest dreams. There are now cells of Funambulists, or ‘Slackliners’ as they are affectionately as well as derogatorily referred to by both friends and enemies in most major city hubs along the Coast. With organizations such as the Moonstars reclining and disappearing completely after the Spellplague and Second Sundering, groups such as ours have found fertile ground to step in and fill the void.

I followed his broad back up the stairs and entered his small but comfortable office. I glanced at his soft, loose brown curls and gave him a mischievous smile. “You need a haircut.” 

“How like you, to start the happy occasion of our reunion with criticism, my dear Divina.” 

“Pfffft!” I snorted. 

“And on my part, I have to tell you that I am also disappointed in your appearance: I was hoping you would have done me the courtesy to show up in your drow form. Inquisitive minds need to know what you would have looked like, should you have been born in the Underdark.” 

“Don’t even joke about it, it took me weeks before I could look at myself comfortably in the mirror in the morning. You cannot even begin to imagine the shock of going to brush your hair and finding someone other than you looking back at you from your reflection.” 

Marcus patted my leg in a comforting gesture. “It is all in the past now my friend. At least I presume it is? How did the mission for your favorite band of good-doers go?” 

I nodded. “Well. Everything went truly well. I didn’t even have to sling a single offensive spell.”

“ _That_ must have left you twitchy” he grinned. 

“No, no, trust me. Dragging a blind drow behind me made me wish for nothing but peace, I tell you.” 

“So, he is safely stowed in Eilistraee’s bosom? You are free to resume your life?” 

“Indeed” I said, after a little pause. “Which brings me to my next question, did I receive any mail?” 

Marcus’ eyes twinkled. “Anything _in particular_ you are waiting for?” 

I slapped his arm. “Don’t make me beg for it, you big bully! Did she invite me this year as well, or not?” 

He laughed, playfully shielding himself with both arms from my supposed assault. As he leaned back, he quickly grabbed a large red envelope in thick, luxurious paper from the top of the desk behind him and handed it to me with flourish. I opened it and produced a heavy magenta card written in gold ink from within. 

I let out a squeal of delight. “Oh, I _must_ start shopping immediately! It has already been left for too late! All of the best fabrics will be gone, I am sure!” 

He raised an eyebrow. “You have no faith in your oldest, possibly only, friend at all, do you?” 

I gave him the stink-eye. “I will ignore your offensive, idle chatter and get straight to the point of interest: Are you telling me you have reserved fabric for me?” 

“Only as soon as the invitation arrived.” I squealed again and got up to kiss his forehead. “You are my hero!” 

“I know. I hand-selected three for you. You can make the final selection yourself. I have also reserved Missus Dinanne _herself_ for the design and dress-making, before any of the rich old Sea Ward harpies could claim every last slot of her time available. I think an adequate payment has to be agreed upon for services already rendered, madam?” 

“Yes, yes, you can be my plus-one. Who else would I bring?” He gave me a big satisfied smile. “Excellent. Now let’s go downstairs and I will introduce you to the new blood and bring you up to speed with our activities.”

* * *

The next five or six weeks passed quickly, filled with preparation for the Cynosure Ball, hot summer days filled with endless, sweaty fittings at Missus Dinanne’s studio, visits to the cobbler for matching shoes and visits to my local smithy for a special-order finishing touch for my costume. The nights were spent studying in the candlelight on the balcony, often going for a naked swim in the sea. One of the advantages of living outside the city walls and right on the sea front, was a lack of crowds and the freedom to indulge in such simple, if lonely delights. Only a few others had mimicked my actions and built another couple of two-story houses outside the walls of the Sea Ward, but they had thankfully had the good sense to build their newer homes close to the city gate and away from my property. The scent of jasmine, full and heady, climbed up the walls and seeped through my open balcony doors at night, to fill the modest bedroom with its scent. They say that tuberose is the carnal flower that maidens shouldn’t smell for fear their chastity would be placed in immediate danger due to its heady scent, but those that started these rumors clearly had never smelled the animalic fragrance of night jasmine on a hot summer’s eve.

On a slightly cooler day at the end of Kythorn ***** , a little street urchin with bright blue eyes and unruly, straight hair the color of matted straw knocked on my door. When I did not immediately appear he called out towards my open balcony doors on the second floor: “Miss d’Argenti? Miss Divina? I got a message for you!” 

I came out on the balcony and looked down at him. I had hardly woken up. What could it be, this early? “Wait a moment, I am coming down” I called out, turning away and grabbing a couple of silvers from my drawer. I went down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Yes? What is it?” I asked once I had opened the door. 

“Your address miss. A man with long white hair wants it.” 

I was surprised it was the hair that had caught his eye, and not the skin color. The innocence of children. There was only one man I knew with long white hair and an old feeling, a little prickle of loneliness I had stopped feeling weeks ago, came back full force. I rubbed my temple with my hand and invited the boy inside. “Sit down. I’ll fix you a lemonade while I write it down for you. Have you eaten anything? Are you hungry?” The little one shook his head no, but I propped down a thick slice of bread with butter and a sprinkling of lemon-sugar in a plate next to his glass of lemonade, casting a small cantrip on the juice to magically cool the liquid down. 

His eyes opened big in surprise. “This is cold! Just like they serve in the best of inns, I’ll wager!” 

“Haha, yes. It’s just a little trick, but it’s useful isn’t it?” 

He didn’t seem to know what I was talking about, but he gratefully sunk his teeth in the bread with gusto as I sat down to write my address and directions to the west gate from the Promenade. 

I folded the paper neatly and put it in a small envelope. “Here. Make sure he receives it as soon as you go back into town and make sure to tell him to come tonight, no later. I… am not one for surprises.” 

He nodded seriously and opened his hand for the customary service. I placed the two silvers in his small palm and his eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “Miss can I come work for _you_?” 

I thought about this for a minute. “Well, I have no work for you, but if you do this job well then I will introduce you to my friend Marcus. He has need of as many messengers as he can get. He is a very busy man, you know. Now off you go. Come back tomorrow morning – _later_ than today please – and if all has gone well tonight I’ll take you to him.” 

The street urchin nodded gratefully and ran out of my door at full speed.

The sun had already set when I heard the light knock on the door that night. I padded down the stairs barefooted, feeling the coolness of the kitchen’s thick stone floor under my feet. I opened the door and looked at him, not quite knowing what to say. He seemed to be at a similar loss for words. Finally, he showed me the small bottle with a medium-dark liquid in his hands. “I come bearing gifts” he said with a little smile that let his white teeth glimmer in the night. 

I gave him a small smile back. “Let’s go upstairs to my balcony. It is cool there, and we can look at the sea. After you” I said once we had crossed my small kitchen and reached the stairs, mindful of the shortness of my plain white shift. I grabbed two small glasses from the parlor and followed him up the stairs. “Just through here” I pointed to my bedroom and to the open doors at its other end. 

We sat down at the table and I poured some of the amber liquid in our glasses. “What is it?” I asked, giving it a sniff. It smelled bittersweet, with a strange hint of tartness up top. 

“Glow Wine, it is very rare on the surface. But the portals help in order to import small quantities.”

“Glow-wine? But it doesn’t glow…” 

He lifted a finger and gave me a playful look. He unsheathed one of his short swords and dipped the tip in my glass, then his. The wine immediately started fizzing and glowing. “Be careful, it is quite strong. Umm… I have heard it has different effects on humans and different effects on elves… Your mixed heritage makes the result a mystery. Though I do hope you take more after your elven side, as your looks suggest.” 

I wrinkled my nose. “You are not making a very attractive proposition here…” 

He laughed again then took a sip and I followed suit. It was indeed strong and I knew that if I did not pace myself I would quickly feel the buzz. 

I expected mundane pleasantries, like ‘how have you been?’ or ‘what have you been up to?’ but instead he went straight to the point, his words honest and simple. “I couldn’t imagine you’d have left so quickly that night. Then… I kept waiting for a visit. You didn’t come.” 

I wrapped my arms protectively around myself as a sudden sea breeze sent a shiver up my skin. “I am getting a little cold. Shall we go inside? Or else I can grab my cloak…” 

He got up silently, carrying both the small bottle as well as our glasses to the table across from my bed. I pulled another chair from the corner and offered it to him. “Do you need light?” I asked pointing to the candle. A stupid question, buying me time. Our races had endowed us with nightvision and low-light vision respectively, I must have sounded like a complete fool. The bright silvery glow of the full moon would have been enough even for humans, I suspected. He shook his head and sat down on the proffered chair. I sat down as well and looked at the wine, which seemed to be swirling and glowing even more impressively now that it wasn't hit directly by the moonlight. 

“Well?” he insisted. 

“Well what?” 

“Why didn’t you come?” 

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” I said, feeling my heart starting to beat faster. “You were starting a new life, right? There was much to learn, much to enjoy. I brought you there… What business did I have visiting? I… I had never been there before. Never before the mission started.” 

He downed his drink in one go and put his glass down noisily. “Perhaps it was a mistake coming here. I will leave you in peace.” 

I could feel my heart in my throat now, thumping uncomfortably. I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling, urging the right words to come, words that would fix the situation like a cleric’s healing spell. I raised my head again as I caught sight of him moving to get up and quickly put a hand on his arm. “I am glad you came.” I looked into his eyes, hoping that these five short syllables were the right ones. He looked back at me and placed a hand over my own. I marveled at the progress he had made in just six weeks. Clearly, touching me without permission was no longer taboo. Or perhaps it was a vestige of those four days of sweaty palms stuck together as though with nervous glue that disinhibited him.

A stray ray of moonlight must have hit my face just so, for in that moment he caught sight of his earring on my ear, even through my long hair. His eyes opened wider for a brief second and with a cautious hand he softly pulled my hair away from my face to confirm what he had only barely glimpsed. He got up from the table, taking my hand in his and pulling me up from my chair with him. Wordlessly, he dropped to one knee and took his swords from their sheaths, letting them fall loudly on the floor on either side of him. Then he inclined his face at the floor and waited, hands weaponless to his sides. ***** I felt my throat going parched with a feeling I could only describe as fear, or perhaps another, yet unidentified emotion. I knew what followed next, but I didn’t know if I was ready for it – if I _wanted_ it even. What had I expected, when I put the earring on? Never to see him again, perhaps. Perhaps to catch a glimpse of him in passing, one day at the market, as I rushed through to avoid the crowds. Or perhaps I was waiting for him to show up at my doorstep all along. “In…Intense…” I croaked, my voice catching in my dry throat. I wondered whether he heard me, for he remained motionless, his eyes and face cast to the floor.

I closed my eyes for a moment, bracing myself. Then, with a steadier heart, placed my hands on his shoulders: “Rise.” 

He got to his feet and finally looked to my eyes. “What are your precepts, jalil? 

“Must we go this far? I have none…” 

His face was awash with a look of grim determination, his plush lips pressed together. “Yes, we must. For I have a demand to make of you.” 

I raised an eyebrow. This was… unexpected. 

“Surface rules: Do not take another male,” he continued, “let me be your sole patron.” 

I felt slightly amused at his words, and the tension at the base of my neck borne from the seriousness of his features finally relaxed. I mentally tried the foreign words I was about to deliver in my mouth, swirling them over my tongue like strange drink before speaking them out: “You make demands of your Mistress?” I had no idea what I was doing. I was led down a strange labyrinth, willingly following the dark orb down pathways I might not be able to return from. I probably did not have it in me to persist in this role. What in the name of the Gods was I doing? 

He cast his eyes to the floor at my words. “Xas” ***** he quietly responded. 

“Very well. Then I have a demand of my own, jaluk.” I said, lifting his chin softly with my hand to force him to look me in the eye. “Surface rules. You must learn to receive pleasure and find release of mind _and_ body at my side. I know it won’t be easy to unlearn more than a century of discipline and instruction. But eventually, no matter how long it takes, I wish to see you claim it.” I let go of his chin and his head drooped again. 

He nodded, then pressed his face in my neck, his body going slightly limp, as though he was going to faint. I could feel his heart thumping wildly through his tunic. “Usstan tlun dossta” ***** he breathlessly proclaimed, and I remembered his words from that morning in the cave. 

I nodded my agreement in his hair, taking in his scent. “Xas” I finally said out loud, sealing the pact.

He departed not long afterwards at my behest. I needed to gather my thoughts and process the events of the evening in solitude. We agreed to meet in two days’ time, to take a walk into town together. I wished to introduce him to Marcus and Artemis - they had been curious about my adventure in the Underdark and kept asking for details, and I thought it would be good for Sil’il to meet some people outside the Church of Eilistraee as well, to get a little more comfortable with city life outside the stringent schedule of the Promenade’s community. When I was left alone in my room I slumped down the chair and downed the wine from my glass in one go. A pleasant buzz overcame me almost instantly, taking away my nervousness and fear from what had just transpired, allowing me to look into my heart more honestly and finding happiness at its core. A light flutter in my chest let me know just how relieved I was he had come back into my life, presently ignoring the implications of what we had just done. I poured myself another glass and swirled my finger around it to make it glow. Nothing happened. I tried a metal spoon. Again, nothing. Finally, I cast a light cantrip on my fingertip and dipped it in the liquid again. The wine immediately begun to fizz and swirl with an otherworldly glow. I laughed. Magic. It needed magic. His blades were enchanted. I giggled again and realized I was getting a little drunk. This stuff was indeed strong. I quickly downed the second glass as well and felt my stomach lurch. Then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Kythorn:** Summer month in the Harptos Calendar, equivalent to June.
> 
> ***"...hands weaponless to his sides.":** Drow male submission act that is part of the courtship ritual. Essentially, it formalizes the relationship and indicates that the male has accepted his item was taken and that he is now owned. As pointed out in the notes of Chapter 3, once a male has been taken as a mate, he is known as owned; and once mating has taken place, he is known as permanently owned.
> 
> ***jalil & jaluk:** female and male respectively
> 
> ***Xas:** Yes
> 
> ***Usstan tlun dossta”:** I am yours


	6. Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons and sexy time in the bath ^_^

“What was that stuff made of anyway? I had a headache all day yesterday!” 

Sil’il let out a soft little laugh. “Glow mushrooms and pomegranates are the main ingredients, I believe.” 

“Pomegranates grow in the Underdark?” asked Marcus. 

“No, which is what makes this wine so expensive. We have to buy the pomegranate at exorbitant prices, usually from Duergar. Did you know? In our tongue they are called ‘Death’s Apples’. Ah, but it is a shock to see so much fresh fruit I’ve never even laid eyes on before at the market.” 

“Yes, okay, let’s not go to the market today, I have just recovered from the headache, I do not need a new one.” I responded, slightly more crabbily than intended. 

Artemis sighed. “By Silvanus, your predilection towards gaiety is contagious Divina.” 

I gave the druid a mock-glare. “And this is why I am taking _Marcus_ to the ball and not you, Artemis.” 

She laughed superciliously, as elves are wont to do. “Amusing that you think I might wish to attend such an occasion. You really do not understand much about elves even after living with them for such a long time, hmm?” I felt my cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and shame. Then I sighed, letting it go. Artemis had stood by me and Marcus on several occasions. I was not going to get into an argument with her over something she most likely was very much right about. I turned my gaze back on the road and let the back of my hand glide over Sil’il’s as though by accident. Headache or no, I had not been able to set the memory of his heart’s wild thumping on my chest aside. I couldn’t quite tell whether what I was feeling was innocent yearning, lust, or something entirely different. My experiences with love or the coming together of two bodies thus far had been-- 

“Shit.” All thoughts evaporated from my mind as I caught sight of him down High Road, close to the Waymoot sign. He had looked delightful in the aftermath of the red puff that transformed him in his lair, but his snakeskin leggings, bare chest, fins and… HORNS… were not a good match for the city. He stood out like a sore thumb and for a moment I thought I might be going delirious. No, he was really standing there in the middle of the road. People generally thought the city continued to be protected by wards against wyrms, unaware that the Spellplague and the events of the Second Sundering had destroyed most of the protections. With the disappearance of mythical heroes, came a shortage of mythical magical defenses. I felt cold sweat run down my spine and whispered: “Run”. “What is going on?” Artemis asked me coolly, but Marcus had locked his sight on the creature and understood - he grabbed her hand and started to pull her away. Sil’il also appeared to have noticed, but seemed rooted to the spot. I turned around and screamed “RUN! Go back to the Promenade, RUN. NOW.” Marcus and Artemis started running towards the Northwest, no doubt returning to headquarters back at the Sea Ward. Sil’il backed a few feet away under the thick shadows of the trees covering a nearby bench and disappeared from sight. I cursed under my breath and cast an invisibility detection spell to make sure he would not suddenly try something we would both regret. I walked purposefully towards the youth, my face contorted into a mask of determination to hide the fear within.

“Phlegeth. I thought we had an agreement.” 

“I changed my mind. I wanted to see where you live.” 

“How did you find me?” 

“The same way you find a tavern when in a new city. Follow the scent of roasting meats. Yours is particularly delicious, like an old favorite.” 

“How about the truth now?” 

“It is the truth. I followed your scent. Or do you think I cannot properly hunt for myself?” He snarled and showed me a pearly smile with unusually sharp canines. 

“So, the plan is to eat me? I must protest, you understand.” 

A petulant look crossed his face. “You seemed much more fun when you visited me, you know. Much more respectful too.” 

“Yes. I was in your territory. Now you are in mine.” 

A loud harrumph escaped his lips. He looked down, and quickly started looking more childish, closer to the last memory I had of him from our previous encounter. “The truth is I _am_ leaving. I _will_ honor our agreement. But I did come seeking you out. I thought you may wish to serve me. You could fly with me, you know. I would show you the world from above. Your skills are useful: I liked your offerings – you would make a _worthy_ servant.” 

Reds are ferocious, but for the most part not dishonest with their feelings. Not like trickster Blues who take sadistic joy from tricking any sentient creature they come across. This was the best he could do. “Phlegeth? I am going to cast a spell and seek access to your mind, to show you something. Do you agree?”  
His slitted pupils became narrower and he furrowed his brow. “Why don’t you simply tell me?”  
“Because I wish to show you something and I need you to know with absolute certainty that it is the truth and not just words. I will make a telepathic connection with you, alright?” 

Without waiting for an answer, I started the incantation. Fizzle, failure. I cursed. In my panic I had forgotten about his magic resistances, but I doubted I had sufficient breaching spells prepared anyway. “Will you please open your mind to me without resistance? Please drop your guard and try to seek my mind with yours.” I tried again after I saw him nod and finally felt the weave bend and fold to my will. I did not probe his thoughts, just immediately started showing him a scene of the recent past: An encounter with a Blue that did not go as well as it had with him. I had to fight for my life. I was still standing, which was proof enough, but I needed to show him the details. Image after image, I showed him my Greater Nishruu feeding off the acid rain and balls of lightning created by the Blue, my Planetar carving a piece of wing with her great sword. I showed him one of my achieved feats, calling forth the ghost of an ancient Red dragon to assist me in battle: The beast appeared in front of the Blue and burnt one of his eyeballs to tar, and my Planetar flew over to the blinded side and dug her sword deep within the gaping wound, felling the great beast. I had moved closer and closer to him as I was projecting images into his mind and now was close enough to touch him. I cupped his face into my hands trying to ignore the heat his skin was radiating in the noonday sun. I spoke directly into his mind: “If you come to my city again, I will kill you. Do you understand me, Phlegeth, my king of fire? I _will_ kill you.” 

His lip trembled and a shockingly viscous black tear fell from his right eye onto my hand and immediately solidified into a tear-shaped obsidian. I closed my fingers around it and felt like crying myself. How do you relieve the loneliness of a dying kind? You cannot. I relinquished my hold on his mind. “Perhaps we will meet again on neutral ground. In the open plains or on a mountain top, when you are older, prouder, maybe angrier and willing to take my life. But I promise you, I will keep getting older and more powerful as well. I won’t make it easy on you. It would be nice to think if we met again it could still be as friends.” I gave him a terse little smile. He pursed his lips and transformed right there, in the middle of the road, causing havoc as people all around us started screaming and running for cover. He opened his wings, dragging a street-side vendor’s fruit-cart with him and crushing it under his wing’s weight as he flew up and away, not looking back. I looked at the black obsidian in my hand and felt my knees give away, causing me to fall on the ground. Sil’il was right next to me a moment later, helping me up. I went to the side of the road and threw up, retching for what seemed like an impossibly long time, and stupidly feeling self-conscious about my state of being in front of him as he held my long hair away from my face. We walked to a nearby park and I washed my face and mouth in the public washbasin which kept streaming a steady supply of fresh spring water. “I am okay” I said, though he hadn’t asked. He wouldn’t. Doing so would imply that I was weak. I wondered if he would ever get used to surface gestures of comfort. “Let’s go find Marcus and Artemis, let them know that we are alright.”

We found the two sitting on the steps of Mystra’s Arms, close enough to the headquarters to know that I would find them should I make my way back safely, but inconspicuous enough to not immediately give away the location. It is because Sil’il is with me, I thought, and the idea irritated me. Was it both of them or just Artemis that didn’t trust his skin? Then I remembered my own misgivings that night in the cave before lust and need took over and my heart softened. That was a problem for another day. “You are safe.” Marcus stood up and gently hugged me, then quickly pulled away. “You reek.” 

“Thanks, I just left my guts on the sidewalk. Your sensitive sensibilities must forgive me, my lord.” 

He wrinkled his nose. “No need for the thorns to come out my friend, I was simply stating facts. As you often do.” 

“Ugh. Fine. Let us go to the headquarters, I would like Sil’il to see where we work.” I was not going to let it go after all. Artemis shot Marcus a burning look but he put his hand on the small of her back and pushed her forward. 

“Yes. Let us do that.” Marcus easily responded.  
I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Marcus after all. When would I learn to not doubt those close to me?

Marcus gave Sil’il a thorough tour of the building and introduced him to those sworn to our cause currently present. He spoke about the founding principles of the Slackliners, principles of balance, peace and inter-racial as well as inter-species understanding with such ardency and fervor that even I felt taken by his story, though it was certainly not the first – nor likely the last – time I heard it. They say a half-elf is often more charming than either humans or elves, for they combine the elegance and beauty of the elves with the charisma, drive and gravitas of humans, and Marcus certainly seemed to fit this ideal perfectly. Once again, I found myself glad for having stepped down from the helm of the organization, glad to have had him at my side, ready to take over. Where under me the organization would have remained strictly provincial in nature, under his magnetic character and charm our numbers had exploded. I had passion for the cause – in addition to sharing my passion, he also had vision and a hunger for success. 

Eventually, when Sil’il had exhausted all the questions he wanted to ask and seemed satisfied with the answers he had received about our cause and actions, Marcus turned around to me and motioned us to sit at a table in the central hall. “Are you finally going to tell us about the dragon?” That reminded me. I turned to Sil’il indignantly: “I cannot believe you stayed after I _explicitly_ told you to run!” He kept silent – a pattern I was starting to get used to. I kept glaring at him, unwilling to accept silence as an answer. “Would you prefer a dastardly male that runs away from danger, pain and death?” he finally said calmly, his voice betraying no emotion. Out of the corner of my eye I caught Marcus and Artemis giving each other a look, Artemis’ eyebrows raised high enough to hit the ceiling. I ignored them and looked straight into his eyes, for a moment shutting the rest of the world away. “No.” I finally answered.

“I followed your lead.”  
“You did well.”  
“But why would you send everyone away? From what I understood…” and at that he gestured towards Marcus and Artemis, “you rely on each other on your adventures.”  
I heard Marcus try to stifle a laugh. “Go on, explain again. You have only said this a hundred or so times, what’s one more?”  
I rolled my eyes at him. This was the usual query among new recruits that found out about our dragon rescue work and who wished to get training in such missions. Why not go in groups? Why not trust in the power of numbers and the combination of complimentary skillsets? “Simple. You want to _kill_ a dragon, you go in a group. You want to _save_ a dragon, you go alone. Enter a dragon’s territory with a group and the only thing you can reliably expect is an attack in defense of both territory and hoard. Enter alone and you may get a chance to speak first.”  
“…speak first.”  
I glared at Marcus who had repeated my last sentence word for word in tandem with me. “What’s gotten into you today? You are being more irritating than usual!” I got up. “Well. I’ve been told in no uncertain terms that I smell, so I am going to head home and have a long bath. All you need to know about the dragon is that he is gone and not likely to return. No casualties.” I fingered the gem in my pocket and glanced at Sil’il who got up to follow me.  
“Hey it was simply a jest, Divina, wait.” said Marcus, trying to grab my arm.  
“I know, I know. Just let me go have my bath. By the time I’m clean and fresh any indignity you’ve caused me will have passed from my mind” I said and gave him a playful smile.  
His hazel eyes glinted as he smiled broadly. “Then I will send a carriage for you in two days’ time, m’lady. See you at the ball.”  
I smiled and nodded raising a hand goodbye as I walked out the door. 

Thank Gond the Wonderbringer ***** and gnomish plumbing, I thought as I luxuriated in the lukewarm water of the sunken pool back at the privacy of my own bathroom. Apart from my study which I absolutely needed for my craft, this was the only place in my house where I had spent a considerable amount of funds, forgoing modesty for luxury. Sil’il was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his left hand idly passing in and out of the water around my feet, making a soft _splish-splish_ sound which I found rather soothing. “Do you want to join me?” I asked, brandishing the soap and washcloth in either hand, in what I hoped was a playful manner he might find tantalizing. I wouldn’t mind feeling his soft skin getting slick in the water… He shook his head no, looking rather serious. I dropped the soap and washcloth to the side of the pool and looked at him carefully. 

“What is it?” I asked.

“Take me with you next time.” 

“Next time what?” 

“From what I understood, you and the… Slackliners?” I nodded. “You go outside the city…” He sighed. “My skills are getting rusty. I am growing testy. Frustrated.” 

I tried to mask my surprise but he quickly read it on my face.  
“I must sound thankless.” 

“No! I wouldn’t care about that anyway…” I tried to process his words for a minute. “Are you unhappy at the Promenade? Do you regret coming? Do you wish me to facilitate your return? They would let you go, you know. They believe in absolute freedom. Many of the ones they’ve rescued have gone on to turn their faith to common surface deities, more eagerly worshipped in the city. They face no punishment…”  
His face turned ashen. “Return?! No! Never.” He looked rather unnerved by the suggestion for a moment, then managed to restrain his emotions once again and looked straight into my eyes: “And I regret _nothing_.” The back of his index finger ran softly up my ankle, as faintly as the back of my hand had brushed against his earlier that day. 

“Then what?” 

He shrugged, taking his hand out of the water. “Rituals, rituals and more rituals. I am bound by them day and night. _Farming_ in the morning, feeding those in need after the midday meal, preparing cures for travellers found on the patrols, then a meal again… Then evensong and sleep, before another endless, identical day begins. I am stifled and grow weary. I… my faith in the Dark Maiden has not waned a single bit… but my patience for her clergy and the strict discipline they impose upon the faithful taken under their wing is growing thinner every day. I could leave and make a home in the city… I have already done some commission work for the South Ward silversmith who was overwhelmed with orders right before the festival season and… feel certain I could make my way without help. But I would prefer to come with you…” 

I changed position in the pool, bringing my face close to his and letting my feet slide towards the area I was previously resting at. I brought my wet lips to his neck and gave him a small kiss that turned into a gentle bite. Then I withdrew enough to look into his eyes. “You _belong_ to me. Of course you are coming with me.” The strange, alien words rolled off my tongue easily this time. A fever was building inside me the last few days, and I was not about to let myself be healed. It matched the summer’s hot edge perfectly and it was welcome to stay.

“Thank you… I was--” 

“I know a way you can thank me” I interrupted him.  
He stopped talking and just looked at me for a moment, then leaned in to lay a light kiss on my forehead. He got up on his feet and grabbed me out of the water with surprising strength, drenching his clothes in the process. He guided me to the back wall, where a stack of towels was piled up neatly inside a large, thickly woven basket. He took a towel in his hands and gently patted me down till I was dry, then he folded it again and placed it close to my feet. He took a few steps back and removed his clothes, kicking them to the side with his foot. I looked at his body, all sinewy muscle and – like all elves’ bodies – completely hairless, with just thick tuft of hair right above his shaft, hair which tapered up in an ever downier, thinning line which stopped halfway up towards his navel. Unlike his dark eyebrows and lashes, that hair too was white, splotching his skin as though he was a rare animal. I now saw that although the scars on his torso and belly remained - scratches of silver marring his otherwise perfect, pearlescent skin, the bruises I had seen last time on him had faded, leaving his skin the beautiful gleaming gray of the rest of his body. I noticed him hesitating for a moment and immediately found myself wondering whether perhaps he was not in the same frame of mind as I was, especially seeing as his body was not reacting to my naked sight. 

Instinctively, I covered my breasts with my arms and was about to say something when he spat in his hand and roused himself to a state of readiness with a few expert strokes. He approached me and I felt him sliding two fingers between my legs, perfunctorily checking my condition. I heard his breath quicken slightly as his fingers came back moist. He slowly licked them clean and then placed both hands on my shoulders, gently pushing me down. My back slid against the cool marble tiles of the wall and I found myself squatting on the balls of my feet, while he kneeled before me, carefully placing his knees on the towel he had previously folded and set in front of me. My mind raced. How many times had he completed the exact same movements? How many times had he known to place the towel at that very exact spot beforehand? How many times before had he calculated exactly where his knees would land? I felt my desire waning abruptly, then waxing slightly again as I watched him slowly prying my knees open and growling softly as he caught sight of the splayed, winking pink. He pushed himself inside me in one go and a choked whine of pain escaped me – my thoughts had not been conductive to sustaining the desire that had built inside me while I was bathing – which slowly turned into a low groan of pleasure as he pushed my back against the wall and tightly thrusted into me. This position gave him absolute freedom to thrust his hips unencumbered from the forces of gravity and I felt his right hand shielding the back of my head as he started picking up the pace, pumping faster and faster into me, a loud groan escaping his lips right on my neck, making my skin steam with his hot breath. I swallowed hard and willed myself to find the strength to stop this, even as I felt my pleasure mounting. My frustration was also coming to a head, however, and as it finally won over the struggle I pushed him away, making him lose his balance and causing him to drop backwards onto the floor. He managed to catch himself on his elbows and looked at me, startled. He kept panting for a while, his chest moving rapidly, shallowly, his erect cock jerking up and down of its own accord a few times, as though pulled up by an invisible string. Finally, the involuntary movements became weaker and it came to rest on his abdomen, leaving a gooey, transparent, shiny trail of pure male need behind on his skin as it became softer, smaller once again. I felt my own sex throbbing while looking at him lying down in such a beautiful state of disarray and reached with my hand to draw a few angry circles around the swollen nub between my lower lips. I let out a yelp of frustration as I felt the futility of my movements and let my back slide down the wall completely, finally sitting myself on the floor in resignation. 

When his breathing became normal again he asked me: “…What did I do wrong…?”  
There was no way for me to explain to him the disturbing thoughts that cooled me down on that hot summer’s day. There were no words to tell him that I feared he was simply doing what he was taught to do, bruised day in and day out by rods that bit the skin with electricity granted by Lolth, with prods sharp enough to feel as though they reached bone, with straps of leather so thin and sharp that they ate away at the skin of the bound with every movement they dared make. Trained to please, trained to do what was asked of him. There was no way to say that I had no idea whether this was what he wanted. Whether _I_ was wanted.

“Nothing.” I answered, simply.  
He let his elbows slide on the floor and lay back, closing his eyes with a sigh.  
As always, I could tell that I was doing something wrong, but I had no idea how to fix it – or perhaps it was cowardice rather than a lack of skill that prevented me from doing so. In my refusal to voice my thoughts I had made us together alone: Trapped in grand cages like birds of paradise, the bars of our making just far enough to prevent our hands from making contact. 

I got up and started the hot water again, letting some of the old water out and dropping a few drops of scented oil in the pool. I crawled beside him and put my mouth next to his ear: “I want to bathe you. You’ve become dirty” I whispered and reached for his sticky tummy, but he caught my hand in the air, preventing me from touching him there. He propped himself on his other arm and reached up to give me a warm kiss on the lips, then got up and slid into the pool, going closer to the hot water vent. I went after him and took the washcloth and soap in my hands, carefully tending to his body before finally hugging him from behind. “I need to go soon. I have a final fitting at the smithy in a while. You can feel free to stay as long as you like, you don’t need to go. I… I’d be glad to see you again when I get back.” 

“I will go work on a commission for Lliira’s Night, there’s only half a day left to finish it. The Krabbellors ***** will want to have it by tomorrow morning for their client. I nodded and got out of the bath to go get dressed.

His mention of the Krabbelors had given me an idea that persisted in my mind, making me quickly forget about our painfully awkward encounter. I got dressed in a long, airy shift and put the obsidian tear in my pouch along with plenty of coin and left the house in a hurry, before Sil’il made his way out of the bath. I left an extra key in the lock from the inside and hoped he’d have the good sense to lock before leaving. I made my way to Krabbellor’s at the South Ward and went in the shop before going to the smithy’s. His eldest daughter approached me, dressed in thick finery despite the warm weather. The Krabbellors were a long-established merchant family, respected by nobility and the middle class alike and Martha, the eldest, had assumed the role of keeping up appearances and ensuring the family kept – if not increased – its social standing after her mother’s death. While father and sons worked hard at making beautiful objects and jewels for those that could afford them, she and her younger sister kept a firm hold on the family’s reigns, ensuring their prestige remained intact, despite the fact that they worked with their hands – an occupation not generally appreciated or afforded status by humans, though valued highly among the fair-folk and elves. She took a purposely long look at my thin shift and still damp hair and sniffed. 

“Yes, Miss d’Argenti?” 

“Call for your father, please, Martha.” 

“He is currently busy with commissions, perhaps one of my brothers can be of use to you?” 

“As if _they_ are not busy with commissions right before Lliira’s Night? I have it on good authority you even had to enlist external help to finish all your orders. Get me your father please.”  
She gave me a hard look as though I’d made her bite a lemon, but off she went up the rather grand wooden staircase. The multitude of oil and tallow lamps in the shop, carefully positioned to aid the jewels and silverware to gleam, made the shop stiflingly hot and I felt sweat running down my breasts even in my thin summer clothes. 

Krabbellor the elder came downstairs and gave me a broad smile, taking my hand in his. “Divina! Welcome dear. What can I do for you?” I took the tear shaped obsidian from my pouch and placed it on the glass-top counter. He placed a gnomish loupe over his right eye and squinted, holding it in place then looked down at the gem, turning it around with his fingers. “A beautiful example my dear, no single impurity – and the cut is exquisite, so smooth, not a hard edge to be found on it even under magnification… Not very valuable however.” 

“It is valuable to me. And I want it made into an earring for Lliira’s Night. By your hands only.” 

“But that’s impossible! That is the day after tomorrow! We are up to our neck in commissions!” 

“I will pay you double what your highest commission is paying – nay, make that two and a half times over, to compensate you in the event that your family does not manage to finish the other piece and ends up disappointing a client. But this item is crucial for my costume and I simply must have it.” 

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. When he didn’t say anything, I pressed on: “Come now Master Krabbellor, we both know that any remaining clients at this late stage before the festival are not old money. Those have their family jewels and any new commissions for the year will have been given to you months in advance. I am sure that whatever you are working on right now is by new customers who have just managed to gather enough funds to commission a piece for their first ball. Please, do this for me.” 

He nodded helplessly. “What you say is not untrue my girl. Alright. What did you have in mind? Or do you wish me to design a piece fitting the soul of this gem?” 

“I know the soul of this gem a little bit myself Master Krabbellor. I have a design in mind. May I?” He snapped his fingers and out of nowhere a young apprentice appeared, paper and pencil in hand.  
“You see?” I asked him after making a rough sketch of an eye with a large tear hanging from its center. “I want the iris of the eye to be a cat’s eye gem of the best quality: Bright yellow with a strongly formed slitted ‘pupil’. Send your best apprentice to the gemstone dealer to pick out a suitable one. The outline of the eye should be made out of small round stones, ideally silver-flecked black onyx. Then of course, the tear will be the centerpiece, hanging beautifully from the center. Please make the metalwork gold, not silver. I will of course pay you in advance for all the material costs.” 

“Very well Miss d’Argenti – though none of the stones are precious your promise to pay two and a half times the highest current commission will do nicely. And the design is not very intricate. We should be able to fit this in our schedule.” 

Martha shot her elderly father a poisonous look, likely simmering due to his crude reference to money. “Miss d’Argenti, allow me to assure you that your piece will be stunning and grace your fine ear beautifully at the time of the ball. Which one are you attending, pray tell?” she asked. 

“The Cynosure” I said with some satisfaction. “Will I see you there?” 

“Uh, perhaps, we have received a competing invitation this year. We shall have to decide quite the last minute which one to attend.” 

I scoffed inwardly – there was no other ball in town to compare with the Cynosure, but decided to graciously smile, despite her earlier rudeness. “Then I do hope we meet there. Please send one of your apprentices to my house with the order when it is ready, no later than the noon of the day itself. I will pay for his carriage and armed escort as he will be taking the payment with him, so arrange for that as well. I do not wish to leave an open account.” She looked suitably impressed and I excused myself to run to the smithy, where I was expected and already late for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Gond the Wonderbringer:** God of Invention
> 
>  ***Krabbellors:** Krabbelor Silversmiths, a Waterdhavian business in the South Ward 
> 
> Next chappie comes out on Sunday! What say you my friends? Are you enjoying the Waterdhavian atmosphere? The Cynosure Ball is almost upon us ;)


	7. Her Majesty's Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Cynosure is finally here :) I hope you will enjoy the descriptions of Divina's, Marcus' and a couple of other surprise guests' costumes... I wonder what you will make of the end of the chapter which was quite hard to write. I felt sorry for Sil'il. But it had to happen... So said Divina.
> 
> The description of the ascension on the Cynosure grand staircase is directly inspired by [this image](https://orig00.deviantart.net/cd67/f/2018/031/3/1/1s_by_wlop-dc1sdan.jpg) (you can also see the pic embedded below, but still would like to link to the artist) by the incredibly talented WLOP. I do not own the image, which is most certainly property of WLOP. Having said that, the costume does not look like the one in the picture. Read on to find out what our guests were decked in :)
> 
>  **Please note that the image below is so huge that if you are viewing on mobile you will have to scroll all the way to the left again for the actual chapter text to appear as under the center of the image it will just appear blank.**  

The thronged crowd pushed back for the carriage as it came to a halt in front of the grand marble staircase of the Cynosure. A footman rushed to open the door and to give me a hand as I came out. The sun was setting and the sky was still light, however the huge torches set on both sides of every street corner were already ignited and waiting for nightfall when they would lend a celebratory air complimenting the festivities for all the revelers. Lliira’s Night was finally upon us! I started going up the endless stairway feeling the excitement stir in my chest as it always did when I had the occasion to come to this ball. Dozens of guards created a broad, elliptical pathway up the stairs, all decked in full plate and tirelessly holding their ceremonial greatswords at a steep inclination off the ground, pointing towards the city as though to protect the guests inside. I looked at their identical figures, masked behind their full helmets and smiled as I gathered my long skirts gently as I skipped my way rapidly up the steps. I wore my new dress, an orgy of black gauzy layers as thin as anything I had ever touched in my hand. Gold foil was applied in haphazard patches on the lower half of the outer layers, flecking the black fabric with big blotches that looked as though someone had dipped a brush into pure molten gold and then touched it on the spiderweave of the dress. The top part of the dress was pure black, a tight bodice up front with a scandalously exposed back all the way down to the lowest part of my waist. In lieu of sleeves, I had commissioned epaulets from the smithy, beautiful interlocking brass scales that looked like dragon scale armor to cover my shoulders. The brass was shined till it glimmered like gold, and the twin pieces were kept in place with a black string that touched the base of my neck and balanced them on my shoulders, the weight of the metal otherwise keeping them naturally in place. My hair, normally worn loose, was tied in a high ponytail that was kept unnaturally high by multiple layers of the black fabric my dress was made of at its base. The upper half of my face was covered by a gold-colored mask with a thin beak that was so long it ended into a needlepoint a full palm’s length away from my face, like a crazed hummingbird. My right ear was graced by Sil’il’s hoop in the middle and a small diamond stud on the lobe, while from my left ear hung the finished dragon’s eye piece with Phegeth’s tear. 

I stopped at the middle of the stairway, where there was a large landing before the second part of the steps started and I turned around to give a short wave to the crowd watching, as was customarily expected of every guest. Throngs gathered each year to take a look at the costumes the city’s nobles, administrators and their guests would be wearing and each guest was expected to oblige. As I smiled and waved self-assuredly in my disguise, my eye caught the most unexpected couple coming up the lower steps, arms interlocked. Dark skinned guests at the Cynosure – who would have thought this day would come? Certainly not I. I guessed the Open Lord had invited the High Priestess and Sil’il in acknowledgement of the part they had played in stopping an all-out war in our region – Waterdeep held good diplomatic relations with the elves of the High Forest after all – but it still was a bit shocking to realize he knew I was also attending and had not seen it fit to mention that they were invited as well. The cultural gap seemed to keep impeding our communication and I briefly wondered whether we would ever be able to truly understand one another, whether there was even a point in trying. They looked beautiful in their matching outfits – she as white swan and he as black swan. The High Priestess had deep blue skin and white hair, and she was wearing her ceremonial white organza robes reserved for rare rituals. The organza was so thin and the layers so few, it was almost indecently see-through. I knew that drow did not care about nakedness – or even engaging in sexual acts in front of others, but I was certain she knew our customs were different and was surprised with her daring. I laughed a bit inwardly, imagining some of the older nobles that were known to be the bane of young debutantes at such parties choking on their drinks the moment they laid eyes on her. She was not young, in fact she was exceptionally old for a drow, but she looked as fresh as a daisy and her body was delightful. Her white hair was gathered up in a bun and a flurry of white swan feathers covered both of her ears completely. A white mask graced the top part of her face, leaving only red, wise eyes visible. Sil’il was wearing black velvet leggings with a row of extravagant gold buttons on the crotch, low, pointed black booties and a similarly thin but black organza tunic on top. Swathes of black swan feathers furled over his ears, while his hair was gathered in a low ponytail at the base of his neck and tied with a black silk ribbon I could barely make out. Only the two thin braids behind his ears were left loose and hanging over his chest. His mask was black, edged with gold all around, as well as gold rimming around the eyes. They made a fascinating entrance together and I wanted to linger to see what the crowd’s response to the magnificently beautiful – but still _dark-skinned_ guests would be, but fear clenched my heart at the possibility of roars of disapproval and I found myself running up the second part of the staircase. I looked behind my shoulder once before stepping into the entrance hall and caught a glimpse of Sil’il looking at my naked back thunderstruck. I quickly turned around and flew into the room, ignoring the welcome sounds of the guards positioned next to the large, open double doorway. 

Big, strong arms steadied me. “Hey, hey, what is the rush? We came here to enjoy ourselves. I have been waiting for you.” 

I looked up and I saw Marcus smiling, then my anxiety disappeared as I took stock of his appearance: He was dressed as a circus tightrope walker in an all-black ensemble to match my own. Two little golden horns protruded from his thick curls and instead of a mask there was a thick black line painted across his eyes and halfway down his nose, making his hazel eyes stand out and sparkle. 

“Really?” I asked, clearly referring to his attire. “Are you here advertising?” 

“It cannot hurt! Perhaps we will get more funding… Perhaps a few more commissions! What is certain is that it will… naturally guide the conversation to our organization and I will get the chance to talk about our cause…” 

I shook my head ruefully. “And here I thought you would dutifully play your role as my dance partner.” 

“Ah, no you didn’t! You always seem to flutter from arm to arm during these things.” 

“Mmm. Maybe not tonight.” 

“Eh? …Oh, I see.” 

“They are behind us, aren’t they?” 

“Yep. Just entered. Shall I gracefully lead you towards the other end of the room and get ourselves a drink?” 

“Yes please” I said, placing a hand on his proffered arm. 

“So, what is going on there?” 

I took a sip from my drink – a gorgeously fizzy white wine from the south, filled with crushed summer fruit – and shrugged. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

Marcus rolled his eyes with annoyance. “Why thank you. I am only being interested… concerned even.” 

I placed a hand on his: “Sorry, that did not come out right – that’s not the way I meant it at all. It is just… I have learned things about them – their kind, I mean – during my two-month training… education… whatever you want to call it. Absurd things… Things I never would have imagined went on between people… I don’t think I can give you an abbreviated explanation nor do I think this is the right occasion for a long, drawn out introduction into…” I lowered my voice “…drow culture and practices.” 

He raised his hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose, an automatic gesture he always performed when he was exhausted, exasperated or verbally bested. I had no idea which of the three he was experiencing at that very moment but still slapped his hand away before he could reach his nose. “You are going to smudge your face paint.” 

“At least tell me this” he said, sighing: “are you… together… or is this one of your dalliances?” 

“The former.” 

“And it is… complicated?” 

“Mmm.” 

He let out a hearty laughter: “But this is _great_ news!” 

“How can you possibly say that?!” 

“My dear friend, you realize I know you for… what? Thirteen? Fourteen years now? Do you know how many times I have heard you freely admit any seriousness of… uh… association? Twice. And both times were rather… Short-lived if memory serves. So this is _good_ news. I’ll drink to your good cheer and wish you that whatever is complicated quickly uncomplicates itself! Come, come, let’s dance! We are only young once. Or for centuries in your case.” I burst out laughing and followed his lead on the dance floor after hastily downing the remainder of my drink.

* * *

“Thank you for accepting our invitation” 

Who would turn it down? I thought, looking at the intimidating face of Open Lord ***** Maria van Hangendoorn. She wore no costume, but, like the rest of the Lords in attendance, was clothed in her ceremonial robes. Her face was lined but beautiful, her white hair forming a snowy halo around her fair-skinned features, not a single dark strand among them. She had aged beautifully, the woman that has held the office of Open Lord for as long as I can remember. Considering she is human, this was an impressive feat – she took on the mantle from her predecessor at a very young age, having been bestowed considerable gifts by her God, Silvanus. In fact, rumor had it she was much older than she looked: It was said that Silvanus had eventually granted her entrance into the apocryphal practices of the hierophants, thus prolonging her life. The fact that she was a powerful Silvanite dedicated to balance had been fortuitous for the Slackliners – our position in the city had been quickly and reliably established almost as soon as the organization was founded. I long suspected Artemis had been planted in our midst by Her Grace, but any resentment this act of meddling might have otherwise caused me was quickly pacified by the Open Lord’s patronage to our cause. 

“We need you to perform a task for us. We would have you come by our offices in seven days’ time.” 

“Your Grace! I have only just returned from a mission! A mission I am fully aware you endorsed and promoted even!”

She waved an impatient hand in the air: “That was two months ago, Divina. Moreover, that dragon you so carelessly attracted here left the road in shambles when it decided to transform in the middle of a busy thoroughfare. We think the city may deserve a break from your antics. Or did you think we would not know about this? Our eyes are everywhere.”

“Your Grace I always felt you were behind our cause and saw the need for preservation just as clearly! Beasts will be beasts! Nobody understands this better than you.”

“We speak as One for all of us, and though not all of us appear in public you know us to be many, with varied opinions. We are not speaking to you unofficially, you understand. Our invitation is decreed by all and we are simply delivering it. You are to attend.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“It has been a pleasure to see you again. We have enjoyed your costume greatly.” She said, dismissing me. And at that, the old, fearsome woman winked at me, her eyes suddenly sparkling like a child’s. I laughed and gave a small curtesy.

* * *

My heart felt slightly heavier after my conversation with the Open Lord, detesting having to wait an entire week until my fate would be revealed to me. I guessed it wouldn’t be bad getting out of the city – it would certainly please Sil’il if our last conversation was any indication. Just when I thought of his name I found myself searching the grand hall for his face. He was not hard to spot – his dark skin ensured that – but it seemed I was not that hard to spot either, for he seemed to sense my look upon his person and caught my eyes, locking them in his own violet gaze. I shivered. Our last encounter had not gone as I had wanted it. Still, somewhere inside I believed I could… What? Change him, I guess. Help him adapt. I had to admit too that my motives were not altruistic: His flavor had become addictive to me in such a short span of time. I did not dislike the role he handed to me, even as it scared me. There was a tension inside me between revulsion and intrigue at claiming him as my own, but if I was honest, the idea was mostly intriguing. Intriguing as in… waking up a strange heat inside me, like putting a slow-burning coal down my belly and turning it into hot, painful longing. I wanted to possess him, yet at the same time I wanted to heal him. Great. My mind was touched, there was no other explanation. I whispered a short prayer to Mystra to not let me end up impaired. There was a reason why the asylum, Mystra’s Arms, existed and it was not because playing with magic was for the weak-willed or weak-minded. And then he was walking purposefully up to me, his great strides meaning that he would be upon me before I could even prepare for his presence. 

Without saying a word he carefully pushed my mask up towards my hairline and kissed me deeply. “You look ravishing in this dress. I have not known what to do with myself all evening, watching you flit from one dance to the next, from one conversation to the other…” 

I placed a hand on his back and pulled him towards me going in for another kiss and that is when I felt it… him… on me. I looked down and the velvet leggings were not doing the situation any favors, only serving to highlight what was already glaringly obvious. I slipped my hand into his. “We must get out of here, this is completely indecent.” 

In typical drow form he looked completely unabashed at his state, even though I was certain he was very much aware of these particular, crucially different surface norms and customs by now. In reality, I found the idea of giving everyone a good show right there and then rather gripping, but since I still wanted to continue living in the city and not as a complete pariah I dragged him towards the stairs outside. 

We sat down on the steps overlooking the grand square out front. The crowds of people that were gathered there just hours earlier had dissipated, likely joining one hall or the other for their own parties. I took off my mask completely and unknotted the fabric tying my hair up, letting it fall free on my shoulders. 

“Hiding your beautiful back again? Is it to punish me for embarrassing you in there my sweet Mistress?” 

I smiled at him. “I wanted to say that it is because I grew tired of its own punishing pull on my head, but I find your words far more appealing.” 

He leaned in to kiss me again and his lips and tongue felt hot from the party, a light perspiration on his skin, his breath warm and wet. Suddenly the night felt that much more humid and I thought I might swoon from his taste and smell. He removed his own mask as well and set it beside him on the steps, then pressed his forehead on the side of my head. 

“I probably do deserve punishment…” he whispered earnestly. “I failed to please you when we last met… Did something wrong, though I still do not know what…” 

I leaned my head against his as well and just stayed there for a moment, willing my heart to calm down. It wouldn’t. I brushed my nose against his and whispered: “If you come stay with me tonight I have a suitable corrective action in mind.” I was lying. At least by surface male standards. For Sil’il it would likely be uncomfortable indeed. But hopefully it would be a step in the right direction, for both of us. 

“Ah, there you are.” Preoccupied as we were in our private affairs we both jumped a little at the High Priestess’ voice. “I am returning to the Promenade, Sil’il. Are you joining me?” She had already reached the step we were sitting on and was now looking down at us. Realization dawned on her as she looked at Sil’il’s face even before he could answer. “I see. Very well. Enjoy yourselves and goodeve to both of you. It would be best if you came to visit me together sometime soon so we may discuss matters. I am glad to see Sil’il is getting used to the city. Thank you, Divina.” And at that, she turned away and descended the stairs leaving us in stunned silence. When her form had become one with the night, I burst out laughing, my initial shock dissipated. 

“What is so funny?” 

“It’s just… It’s just…” I wiped a tear away from my eye and burst out laughing again. “It’s just I haven’t felt this much terror since I was an apprentice back in the High Forest.” I finally managed to control my hysterical mirth. “I was glad she seemed to not umm… mind… Though I wouldn’t know why she would… So, are you coming?”

* * *

Our easy companionship on the stairway of the Cynosure had turned stiffer as we started approaching my house. I wondered whether it was because he was feeling apprehensive at what I may have meant by ‘corrective action’, though I felt rather confident that he trusted me to not inflict upon him any of the horrors that had led him away from his home. The way he leaned against me, the way he touched me, his eagerness to put himself in my trust told me I had touched some deep part inside him that craved – perhaps always _had_ craved – comfort. I was planning to make things suddenly less comfortable for him tonight, though I did hope and believe that it would not break our trust. I had not known much at all about drow sexuality before I left for the Underdark – my training had not included details about that, save for basic facts such as how females physically and emotionally torture and control their partners and about drow comfort with nakedness – all facts meant to keep me undetected by serving to suppress any instances of great surprise I might otherwise indicate. Further details eluded me, but after Sil’il had come back into my life that night, I had had the good sense to visit one of my two Eilistraeean tutors in order to glean more information. The meeting had been rather awkward for me, but she seemed entirely unperturbed: It appeared as though the basic lack of shame surrounding these acts was hard to shed for drow, even those that had joined the Eilistraeean community decades earlier – which is not entirely surprising considering we learn what we learn about shame and what merits it when we are children. Through her, I had found out that sensuality is not a give-and-take pastime for drow; Instead, female drow do their utmost to ensure that the male receives no pleasure during her fun – for her, the act is one of domination and stress reduction, with the male being used as a tool to provide her absolute sexual bliss. This is taken so far in fact, that in their effort to ensure that the act is not enjoyable for the male, inexperienced females often accidentally kill their first partner. Moreover, the strict sexual training males receive in order to know how to please females at the complete cost of their own joy – often carried out by Arach-Tinilith Mistresses during their years in the Academy, in addition to the training provided by priestesses, also serves to ensure that males learn from an early age to control their release so that it does not occur unless permitted. Male emission is only necessary when and if a female drow decides to procreate – something which went a long way in explaining our encounter at the cave after we escaped Menzoberranzan. When I encouraged his release, he must have thought I desired to conceive, an explanation which put his reaction the next morning when he saw me with the powder into perspective. Our last experience in the bathroom of my home had clearly shown me that the decades of training persisted inside him. Clearly, I would have to commence with my own training, and I thought I had just the remedy to speed up the process of erasing years of learned behavior. Even if it caused some discomfort.

I turned the key in the lock and led him upstairs, where I proceeded to remove all of my clothing until the only things that remained on my body were the jewels on my ears. He kept watching me as I shrugged off my dress, as I unknotted the string that tied together my epaulets, as I kicked off my gold-colored sandals. Finally, when I was completely naked, I pressed my body against him in the dark room, feeling the familiar strain I had felt at the Cynosure against the velvet fabric. “I am glad to see your enthusiasm has not waned” I purred. I heard him let out a long sigh and realized he had been holding his breath. I undid the ribbon that was holding his hair back and raked his hair with my hand, my lips on his throat. “For what I am planning, you should also get undressed…” He quietly obeyed and I pondered whether I should restrain him for what I had in mind – it wouldn’t be hard to adjust my web spell to make the mass of spiderwebs coil in the form of a silky rope… but no, that would be too reminiscent of Llolths pet spiders, too reminiscent of _home_ to be conducive for any sort of rehabilitation. I would have to do without and hoped that my actions would be thrilling enough to captivate without the need for actual bounds. I guided him to the table across my bed and, pressing my hands on his shoulders, gently pushed him downwards so that he came to half-sit on its edge. Once again, I pressed my naked form on his, leaning in for a kiss and took his hands in mine to place them on my breasts, causing him to groan softly in my mouth. The sensation of his inner thigh’s skin as my hips touched him sent a jolt of electricity in my body and I groaned in turn, our kiss becoming deeper, more urgent. I lifted my right leg and placed it on the chair opening my legs, and took his hardness in one hand, pushing the tip slightly inside me to make it moist and then proceeded to rub it softly up and down my sensitive spot, the silky, warm sensation causing my head to fall back in helpless bliss, breaking the kiss. 

“Aah… Dos shlu'ta kl'ae uns'aa rilu'oh dos saph, ussta ssinjin jalil” ***** I heard him say. I found it hard to stop myself, but knew that if I continued like this, things would go significantly different from what I had in mind. 

I reluctantly moved my hips away and begun kissing his chest, slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, starting to descend lower as my hands gently run up and down his arms. When my lips reached his abdomen, I felt him shift uncomfortably and looked up to see a confused look in his eyes. My hands on his hips now, I quickly descended further, giving an experimental lick on his shaft. I felt his body stiffen, but his scent was drawing me in: Lightly sweet and musky, it made me feel slightly delirious for him - I would not be denied. My lips were quickly on his tip, and when I opened them slightly my flicking tongue got a taste of his diaphanous dew, beading on the narrow, small slit. 

“Nau” *****. He drew a sharp intake of breath. “Nau… No! …Divina… no…” 

I felt a strong grip around my right arm as he tried to bring me up to my feet again. I dug my fingers painfully in his hips and with regret stopped my languorous exploration for a direct attack before he could protest more: My lips quickly descended down his shaft, taking his entire length in my mouth till I felt him push hard against my throat. “Nau!!!” he cried with agony, his grip on my arm becoming so strong I thought it might leave a bruise. I released some of his length and gently pressed my teeth on his skin looking up at him with a challenging glare. He seemed to understand my warning as his grip on my arm softened after a short moment of confusion, and, for a second, I wondered whether I was doing the right thing when I saw a cloud of sadness pass from his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his legs and held him in a warm embrace, hoping that my feelings would come through, despite my ruthless approach. I started moving softly again, my tongue drawing circles around his tip as I started giving him gentle sucks. Then, as I felt him swelling, getting hotter in my mouth, I started sucking in earnest. “S-stop… S-stop… Please… You must stop… I beg you…” 

“Mmm” I moaned, letting him hit the back of my throat. 

“No… St..” My hand reached between his legs and gently caressed his balls. They felt tight and strung high from the effort and desire, cool to the touch. He was not going to get away with it, he was going to have to give in. I let my fingers and palm explore them, giving a gentle squeeze just as my tongue repeatedly hit the back of his tip, cheeks hollowed from the force I was exerting. He howled and a strong salty wave hit the back of my mouth, followed by softer, gentle crests that I lapped up with my tongue. The extreme tension of his tightly coiled body released and his legs gave away, causing him to sink to the floor close to me. I heard him panting as he leaned over to kiss me and I responded in kind, but I quickly realized he was not kissing me at all: His tongue was searching every bit of my mouth, desperately swallowing, desperately cleaning what he was taught to perceive as unclean. I felt a warm, wet droplet on my cheek and when I looked up I saw he was crying. My heart broke. I wanted to run away, flee, hide. From all the reactions I had anticipated, this was one I had never expected. I pulled my mouth away from his and hugged him, then started crying myself. “I am sorry… I am so sorry…” 

He shook his head rapidly “…Don’t say that… qualla ***** … qualla… please?” 

I got to my feet and took his hand leading him to bed. Despite my best efforts to make him lie close to me, he just curled up at the foot of the bed, his head on my feet, like a beaten dog. His body trembled every now and then and I found myself unable to sleep from the agony of his anguish, only managing to fall in an uneasy slumber just as the sun started to rise. 

I woke up from being forcibly turned on my belly, my face suddenly in my pillows. I felt Sil’il’s hands grabbing my hips and lifting them up in the air. Before I knew what was happening his face was in my buttocks, a hot tongue between the cheeks. “NO! What are you doing?! Stop that!” 

He emerged for a moment to tell me in a gruff, decisive, heated tone: “I am righting a wrong!” Then his tongue was back where it had been a second before, licking, exploring, making all the blood from my body rise up to my face. 

“Sil’il, stop! I don’t… want…” His right hand had snaked its way between my legs and next thing I knew his middle finger was rubbing softly between my lower lips. “Wh-- uuh…” The two sensations – his tongue in a foreign, yet untouched place, his finger on my warm desire – suddenly combined to produce a never tasted-before pleasure. “No… Mmm… Yesss…” I whined, feeling my upturned body dripping. As his tongue flitted more urgently, so did his finger’s movement become more rapid, promptly sending me into rapture. I panted against my pillows, then as my body started calming down I felt a wave of shame overtake me and I wished I was alone, for I knew not how to face him. Then I felt soft, gentle kisses all over my legs and feet, and Sil’il’s sweet arms wrapped tightly around me. _I think I love him_ I thought, and my heart thumped hard and unevenly at the strange idea that had struck its core. I turned around on my back, no longer blushing, feeling calm and content. Sil’il placed his head on my belly and curled up against me, holding me close. My hands found their way in his hair and I gently caressed him, slowly, over and over again. 

I wish I could tell him, I thought… Instead, after spending a long time in comfortable silence, cuddling and caressing, what I found myself saying was: “There’s something we often say, here on the surface: ‘Two wrongs don’t make a right’… So… if you think that you are ‘righting’ things like this, perhaps you should change your perception and view both actions as rights instead of as wrongs?” 

He looked up at me and I could tell from his eyes that even though he was not ready to accept my words as the truth yet, he was carefully considering them. That was enough for now… A seed planted. 

“I wish I could clearly understand what it… what it all means to you, jalil.” 

I squeezed him and lightly pulled him up so he could lie with his face level with mine. “I think you need to find out for yourself my jaluk…” I could have answered him, but would it have done much good? I wondered. When he kissed my lips, did any conscious thoughts connect to the action, or was it animal instinct that guided him? And yet… And yet after that first encounter at the cave he did say that the only nice tale he knew was the sight of the stars overhead and the sweet words I’d told him that morning. What were those words? I couldn’t exactly remember, but we were dancing around a similar, if not the same topic, I was sure. Those words were words he savored as precious. Perhaps I should have answered, then, but the moment had already passed. 

He twined his fingers with mine. “Will you tell me then, what I did wrong the other day?” 

I sighed deeply and avoided his intense eyes for a time, trying to gather my thoughts. “You… the way you placed the towel on the floor to protect your knees… It was so practiced… Like a standard routine. It made me realize you were only trying to please me, it felt like you were uninvolved. It made me feel… unwanted.” 

He looked slightly confused, and it was his turn to briefly stop and consider his next words. “What you say is not untrue, I was trying to please you, but that is the proper way of things jalil.” 

“That is not the way things work up here!” I interrupted him. 

“…and yet the two of us… we are neither here nor there, are we?” 

He had used the surface term wrong, but I knew what he meant. I had taken his item, even though we were on the surface. He knew that I was aware of its meaning. “As for the towel,” he shook his head ruefully “I have no clear understanding of what it means to you, but I think it amusing that you believe any priestess of the Spider Queen or any Arach-Tinilith Mistress would have allowed a male to spare his knees of pain. Such a move would only motivate them to cause even more pain as punishment. It was spontaneous, I assure you.” 

I waited. When he offered up no more explanations I pressed on: “There was a third point, yet unaddressed.” 

“What do you want your xa'huuli jaluk ***** to tell you my jalil? That he has desired you from the moment he laid eyes on you in front of that gate to the city of pain? That your scent almost drove him mad with longing? That when you showed your true form – same, yet so very different – he almost swallowed his tongue and wished his eyes would stop burning from that blasted sun so he could look at you just a bit longer? And that just when that happened, you went and disappeared, never to return? How far do you wish you humiliate your male, jalil? On that day… On that day I only wished to talk, I had more to say to you. Your mind was elsewhere and I complied. Why chastise me for doing what was expected of me?” He had slowly shifted on top of me as he was talking and now he was looking at me straight in the eyes, the anger in his gaze belying his humble words. When I refused to answer or look away, he let a low growl of frustration escape his lips. 

“Where did you learn to talk back like that, Sil’il? I might take offense.” 

He fell back onto his back, resting his head on my pillow. I turned to look at him and saw the corners of his mouth twitch in a little smile. “At the Promenade. Did you know that they value males’ opinions equally? Everyone, be they male or female are asked for their counsel before decisions are taken. There are even a few male priests, though they remain low in the hierarchy and it seems unlikely that they will be permitted to advance very high.” 

“Yes, I knew. I must make sure to thank them for your education. It is very… convenient.” 

He turned around and pressed his nose in my neck, hugging me, radiating happiness and clearly satisfied with himself. I understood well now why female drow viewed the rare favored males as pets – pets that could get naughty and troublesome, needing punishment to correct their behavior or perhaps to be put down if necessary. But I wasn’t drow. I might not have what it takes to discipline an unruly pet, I thought to myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Open Lord:** The Lords of Waterdeep are the ruling council who rule the city of Waterdeep. The Lords come from all walks of life and predominantly comprise of humans. While no Lords are formally named, some individuals become the subject of widespread rumors that can even become a general consensus. The penalty for impersonating a Lord, whether by dressing in a set of their indentical clothing or by a false claim is punishable by the imposter's immediate execution. All Lords except from the **Open Lord** wear black formless masks and robes and speak only through the Open Lord to keep their identities secret. The **Open Lord** of Waterdeep is the sole member of the Lords of Waterdeep whose identity is publicly known. There is only one Open Lord at any one time, but when the previous one dies or steps down, he or she is replaced by a new one.
> 
>  ***“Aah… Dos shlu'ta kl'ae uns'aa rilu'oh dos saph, ussta ssinjin jalil”:** "Aah… You can use me however you like, my sweet female"
> 
>  ***"Nau":** No
> 
>  ***qualla:** please
> 
>  ***xa'huuli jaluk:** worthless male


	8. Blow-In

Four days had passed. I had seen Sil’il only briefly, when I called a meeting at the Funambulist headquarters to discuss the fact that the Open Lord was likely to commission our service based on our talk at the Cynosure and I wished to assemble a team. Marcus was surprised to see that I had arrived with Sil’il, but not as surprised as _I_ was to find Anna sitting next to him and Artemis. “What are you doing here, Anna?” I said, without even bothering to greet anyone as I entered Marcus’ private office. Sil’il quietly sat down, unaware of any of the history between us. 

“Why hello to you too, Divina. I have joined your league” she told me in her bright, peppy voice, beaming at me gleefully, which I took as an affront. 

“What is she doing here?” I directed my attention to Marcus. 

“I think you just heard her.” 

I rolled my eyes. “She is a spy! A Harper spy! Is this a joke?” 

“Look, is it impossible for you to trust anyone at all? I am well aware of Anna’s involvement with the Harpers. She joined us shortly after you left for Menzoberranzan, clearly impressed with your moxie during your meeting with Eldrin Vale and High Harper Iillura Calandriel. For once you have managed to advertise our cause better than me, it seems.” 

“You are being taken for a fool, Marcus.” I saw my friend clenching his fist on his knee, his knuckles turning white. 

Artemis placed a hand over his other knee and looked at me pleadingly. “Divina, please…” 

I closed my eyes, keenly aware of the thorniness that made my character not easily befriended. I had just publicly called the person I considered my closest friend a fool. What exactly was I playing at? But, by Mystra, was he really this blind? “Ah. Hmm… I am sorry. I did not, uh, mean that, exactly.” 

Marcus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, you did. And I understand. It is… hard for you to believe in people. But do trust my judgment a little bit as well? I have known Anna for four months now and she has been nothing but exuberant about the possibility of working with you.” 

My eye caught Anna biting the inside of her lip. She was getting uncomfortable. “Enough, whatever. But now let us convene with the team that will join this mission. Will you please excuse us, Anna.” 

“No, you don’t understand, she is coming with us, I have hand-selected her specifically because of her connection to the Harpers. She will be invaluable in assisting us in information gathering. It is one of her skills, professionally speaking, and her connection to the Harpers in addition to that will provide that much of a bigger pool to draw information from. On top of that she is an excellent sharpshooter.” 

“We already have a rogue. Moreover, he is the _Qu'el'velguk_ , the House Assassin of Noble House Mizzrym” I said, pointing to Sil’il, and acutely aware that the distinction was probably completely meaningless to all of them. Marcus had the good grace to not press the point of the fact that I had not apprised him of my plans to include him in the team beforehand either, just sprang him in his face as a last-minute surprise. He was a gentleman and a diplomat, unlike myself. 

“…I am an assassin, jalil. I cannot provide you all the skills you may wish. My expertise lies with my blades, poisons and detecting illusions.” 

“And _I_ am the best damned lockpick of the North, an excellent trap maker and disposer and your ears and eyes in half a dozen networks. You will find no better” chimed Anna happily, as though rejection and insults slid off her back like water on a duck’s feathers.

“Careful my young harpist, there’s only room for one gigantic ego in this company and the role has already been filled” laughed Artemis, grinning at me playfully. 

As if I could not blast almost every lock _she_ could pick with a knock spell, I thought to myself, but there was little else I could bring up about her other skills. “I am sure there are… others within our ranks that have similar skills, Marcus. Why grant her admission into the Slackliners and take such a large risk? Why include her in the team for this mission, a mission by the Open Lord no less?” 

“Divina I know you founded this organization but it has grown larger than you now. Neither you nor I have immediate oversight of the members accepted in other cells across the Coast and when it comes to Waterdeep, you have entrusted day-to-day operations to me, have you not? I do not question your authority or lead on missions, why question mine when it comes to administration and leadership of this cell?” 

I drew in an exasperated, long breath. I was beaten: It was clear the peppy redhead had become a fixture of our mission to come. “If you so much as _think_ of doing something stupid with your Harper friends consi--” 

“I will not be coming. Should I leave the room?” 

“What?!” I turned around and looked at Artemis in astonishment. “Oh yes you are coming, we need a healer. All our other clerics are away on missions!” 

Marcus shook his head. “Divina, she is my deputy. Someone has to stay behind and take care of things here. You know this to be true. It is either me or Artemis, choose. We will be happy to accommodate your wishes. But one of us has to stay behind.” 

I knew he was right of course. But it had been a long time since I left on a long mission without both of them at my side. Marcus’ previous deputy, Belarf Steelarm, a friendly dwarf, one that combined surprising wit with an unusually polite demeanor for his kind, managing to befriend all but the grouchiest that met him, had been lost to us six months ago on a mission to defend a town in the north from a tide of orc invaders. I sat down in resignation and pressed a hand on my forehead. “What will we do?” 

“For now you must choose, I believe” said Artemis with her usual matter-of-factness. Where Belarf had the capacity to win everyone with humor and good cheer, Artemis was… Well. She was something. I wondered how the Slackliner public relations would fare under her lead. Hopefully she had learned something from Marcus while deputized in Belarf’s stead, for I was not going anywhere without him guarding my back. Besides, even without the specialist skills of a cleric, Marcus would compensate with his ranger magic until we found a proper replacement for Artemis. Even though his strength lay in combat, he was quite adept with basic healing magic and other divine spells tied to the power of nature. 

“Marcus” I said, the choice clear. 

“Very well, then I am leaving the room to let you talk in peace.” 

“Artemis there is hardly need for that.” 

“But you said…” 

I glared at her, willing her to sit down and to not make me explain. Despite her innate elven earnestness, she caught my drift and instantly sat back down. 

“Thank you. Now as you know, Open Lord Maria van Hangendoorn has invited me to their offices. I would prefer to go there having at least an _inkling_ of what will be asked of us, that way I will be prepared to enter negotiations with a strong foot.” 

Artemis shook her head. “If the Lords themselves have called you I doubt there will be room for negotiations. Had she called you personally, as she has often done in the past, I would have seen merit in what you say. But this sounds like a one-way street to me. I do not see any room for movement.” 

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully. “She did say she was speaking as One on behalf of All, yes. Damn it all. Still… Any idea at all what this might be about?” 

“If I may?” Anna raised her hand but continued without waiting for an answer. “If it is a request from all the Lords then the likeliest explanation is that this has to do something with the Lords’ Alliance. ***** Since Maria van Hangendoorn is the leader of the Alliance then the chances of a greater regional problem become likelier and likelier, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Marcus nodded slowly, evidently thinking about this. “If that is the case then we may need to set contingencies for a long-term absence. We should start wrapping up open cases and leaving persons in charge for those that cannot be wrapped up in time for our departure. We should also start making a list of things we will need for such an expedition.” 

“I hate being in a state of not knowing what she is going to spring on me.” 

Artemis rolled her eyes. “It is just a few days Divina! Honestly, I will never get used to the vexing impatience that characterizes those outside the Tel’Quessir! ***** ” 

I decided to ignore her comment, as was so often necessary, lest I lost my temper again. “Alright. Our hands are tied, this much is clear. Let us at least do what Marcus said and start tying up loose ends, placing people in charge where needed and making lists to prepare for extended travel. I believe Anna has a point in suspecting a regional concern. No good will come of leaving the lists till last minute – you know how I hate being unprepared for anything. One more thing. Marcus, please share the wealth of our coffers with our new companion. Perhaps you can go shopping together? He has excellent weapons, but we left without much else. Light and flexible - needless to say enchanted - armor will be necessary, as well as a good cloak and bracers… And anything else you two may think of. Including ingredients for poisons. Anna, do you have everything you need?” She nodded. “Alright. Then let us reconvene here in three days’ time, when I will finally know what is expected of us. Artemis, I would be grateful if you looked into our members’ lists from other cities and located the most capable cleric available. A sylvanite like you, preferably.”

* * *

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I needed to finish up a couple of things” said Marcus as he stepped into my kitchen. Everybody was gathered around the table – I had asked them to meet me back at my house after listening to the Open Lord’s fears that the more Waterdhavian ears became aware of the situation the likelier the spread of panic would be. 

_“And there is no cause for panic. It has been made clear to us that the disease is not contagious”_ she had said when we met. 

_“Then why are you sending me to investigate?”_

_“It is not contagious, but yet it spreads, its means unknown. It is hair-raising, is it not? Cases have already reached Baldur’s Gate. By the time you get there things will have likely become worse. The Lords’ Alliance needs answers, fast. Already one of the alliance members has been affected. We cannot allow what happened to Baldur’s Gate to reach Waterdeep or Neverwinter. The spread to the North **must** end. Make it happen.”_

“Make it happen, she said” I related in a rather irked manner to the group. “As if I know anything about disease. And we have no healer, though according to the Open Lord that would not have helped either. It appears that the disease is completely unresponsive to divine magic or traditional healing methods. It is hopeless!” 

“Be that as it may, I have found a cleric to replace me” said Artemis. “I sourced two possibilities, one in Neverwinter, in the event that you took a North-bound route and one in the Gate, in the event you went South. Now it seems the Gate will be your first stop anyway. Every cloud has a silver lining. I will provide you her Slackliner identification number in the mission log that you will be taking with you. It is written in our code.” 

I nodded. “I just don’t feel like we are the right people to deal with this… What experience do we have with this kind of thing? We serve the balance… This is an invisible enemy that even the divine doesn’t seem to reach. It seems like something best left to city administrators responsible for sanitation…” 

Anna shook her head, grinning: “I remember you saying something to that effect when I first brought you to the Harpers. Then too you doubted that your skills were the ones needed. How about trusting in the Lords’ judgement? Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I sincerely doubt the Slackliners are the only ones that have been trusted with a commission. The vast resources of the Alliance will have been put to good use, I am sure. Why put all your eggs in one basket when you have enough eggs to fill ten baskets full?” 

I nodded again, with grudging gratefulness. I was nowhere near trusting Anna, but I had to admit that her insights had proven interesting and useful, both of the times we had convened for a meeting on this mission. Perhaps she was not as airheaded as she looked. Perhaps the airheaded peppiness was in fact one of the reasons she managed to have her ear everywhere. It is easy to underestimate someone that looks like a bubbly little redhead doll, all eyes and no brain. _Dangerous_. She may well be dangerous, warned the familiar voice of mistrust inside me. 

“Sil’il, wait” I said as I watched the small group file out of the house after our meeting. 

“Yes, jalil?” 

“I will come by the temple tomorrow” I said, tracing the edge of his hand with an idle finger, before continuing: “the High Priestess asked to see us, and now we will have to spring this news on her as well. The news that we are leaving. I had wished to keep the two topics separate, hoped to have the chance to meet with her twice but… circumstances are what they are. Are you ready to break with the community of the Promenade, at least for now?” 

He gave me a half-smile, the right side of his mouth turning up mischievously. “I assure you I will experience no great loss. I am looking forward to leaving, stretching my limbs… engaging in battle.”

Killing, he meant, I could see it. He had missed killing. What is it like, being brought up as a drow assassin? I wondered, not for the first time since I’d met him. If I was honest, I found the duality between his childlike innocence and brutal aggressiveness riveting. Much like the dragons I sought to preserve when possible, I could not find fault with his brute, animal nature. It was part of him. I had no judgment to make, most of the time. And while the Eilistraeeans rehabilitated the drow they rescued, they also reveled in leaving some of those traits untouched: The Dark Maiden believed in swift retribution and needed her followers to have the strength to stop evil in its tracks. They were no pacified, domesticated creatures. They were molded into sword-wielding dancers of Eilistraee’s might.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Lords’ Alliance:** The Lords' Alliance, also known as the Council of Lords, was a partnership of merchant cities founded in 1325 DR. Its members were from the Sword Coast, the North and Western Heartlands, including Waterdeep, Silverymoon, Baldur's Gate, and Neverwinter, as well as other free cities and towns in the region, which made up the bulk of the organization.
> 
>  ***Tel’Quessir:** The elven word for "the people", the term elves use to refer to all elven races.


	9. Sinners

“You are free to go and pursue your goals. Having said that, it is soon. Far sooner than I would have hoped, Sil’il. But you know the Dark Maiden’s creed: The only people we hold against their will are prisoners of war – and even they are allowed to take an active part in the community.” The High Priestess rested her amber eyes on Sil’il, presumably waiting to see whether her worries might turn him from his intended path. We were kneeling before her in her modest chambers, uncomfortably sitting on the heels of our feet. As far as I could tell while passing the long corridor that housed the clerics’ quarters, hers were no grander than any of the other identical ones – a detail that increased my respect for her. Yes, each room that happened to have an open door was made individual with personal belongings, but each one was modest and sparsely furnished. The temple life was spent mostly in group setting, chambers only used for sleep, rest and private prayer. I glanced at Sil’il out of the corner of my eye and saw his face was carefully kept blank. 

“I see” sighed the High Priestess after a while. Then may you go with the Dark Maiden’s blessing and may the moon guide your way. Now, to the other matter I wished to see you about. I am grateful for Divina’s role in assisting us and our Harper friends end the threat in Menzoberranzan. This I have said before. I have also, I believe, expressed my thanks for the role she played in rescuing you from a life that had become painful, Sil’il. Now I see that there is, perhaps, more cause for thanks.” 

She glanced at us both and gave us a warm smile before continuing, her face glowing with kindness. “One of our primary methods of rehabilitation is introducing drow exiles and refugees to the nature of self and other love – we consider the two deeply intertwined. What I witnessed after the Cynosure Ball made me think that you, Divina, have started playing a role in this education. I have seen you both privately before adjoining to my chambers and have found the _truth_ ***** of your natures and intentions. Will you now permit me to call down Eilistraee’s regard upon your union?” 

Sil’il and I exchanged a glance. His face was unreadable, but calm. I nodded to the High Priestess, who sat back and looked into our faces without really seeming to look at us at all. A moment later, her eyes begun glowing and soon they started filling with light, turning into bright, pupilless glows of silver - turning “moon-eyed” as it was known among clergy and followers alike. The silver light flared for only a second or two and then immediately dissipated. The High Priestess blinked rapidly a few times as she came out of her trance and then glanced up at us, a look of horror creasing her beautiful features. “My children, what have you done?!” she cried. 

I felt Sil’il’s fingers blindly reaching for mine and squeezing – a move that did not escape the notice of the High Priestess. Her features softened a little bit, but her eyes were still filled with a mixture of dismay and regret. “You have bound yourselves in the ways of old! In the ways of the Mother, not in the ways of the Daughter! How could you?!” 

I swallowed hard and let go of Sil’il’s hand, placing my palms on the floor and bowing low before the High Priestess until my forehead was resting on my hands. “I take full responsibility for any wrath our actions may have caused. Please, please do not turn Sil’il away from the Dark Maiden’s grace because of this. I will accept whatever punishment you decree and render any services to the temple and the Goddess as you decide appropriate, for as long as you deem appropriate. I only ask that you allow him to remain a faithful of the church, hopefully in your good graces and not cast away from the Dancing Goddess’ loving benison!” 

“Rise, Divina.” 

I slowly lifted my body away from the floor, only managing to lift my face to face hers when I was finally sitting upright again. 

“I see that you have not only bound yourself in the ways of old, but that your heart also instinctively understands the obligation of taking the burden of accountability for those in your charge. This is unusual, if not completely unheard of among my kind - a practice not known among those that inhabit the caverns of the Mother. The Daughter approves of this - the fact that I was overtaken by the silver light of her presence is testament to this. You have both gained her attention, if not her blessing. You must understand, I _cannot_ sanctify such a union – in the eyes of the Goddess, and in mine eyes as well, it is an aberration. Then again, that is not something you asked of me and I must apologize for taking liberties with my authority and imposing it upon you. I knew it would have been difficult to deny my request and yet I proceeded. I… apologize for that. I… The silver light speaks for itself, even in its brevity – though, make no mistake, that is also telling. You may continue in the Goddess’ loving embrace, even if you are barred from our church’s Love-Binding ritual. Now, Sil’il, please leave us. I would speak with Divina alone.” Sil’il simply nodded and quietly left the room. 

“I hope you know what you are doing” she continued when we were alone. “This child seeks to be owned because his spirit was broken, like the spirit of all drow children that grow up in the Underdark and not on the surface. They receive no love and any inclination _they_ might have towards love is muted through repeated beatings and any form of pain imaginable. Had he remained here… We would have rehabilitated him into the practice of love – for what do you think our treatment of the poor and wounded is, if not a reflection of the Dark Maiden’s loving heart that sheds light into the hearts of her followers the more they show kindness unto others and receive it in turn? But it is a slow process, Divina. First learning to care for others, then receiving their warmth – a process that greatly heals and opens the heart, then learning to love the self, then, if one is lucky, learning to trust and love another and being loved in return. What will you do with this child? Does he even know how to love? I believe the Goddess has reluctantly permitted your perverse union due to the love she sees in your heart. I see it too. But this child’s soul is still filled with turbulence and shrouded from my sight. Will you manage?” 

I looked down at my hands. _Would I?_ That was a good question. I had taken on this role reluctantly yet impulsively at first, then got inebriated with its flavor, addicted to him, addicted to the power he willingly handed to me and at the same time addicted to caring for him too, addicted to both the warmth between my legs and the one in my soul, both of which he had ignited. Was I enough to help him learn anything about love? That is what the priestess was asking me, I felt. I was not the best example of knowing love or trust. However, I _had_ known selfless love and her warmth through my Silver Mother, I _had_ known what it was like to be in her loving arms, to be cared for by her. She was the sole reason love was alive in my heart. 

“I do not know. I cannot answer you with certainty, for I am scared too. But I wish to try and it is not in my heart to leave without him. Parting from him now would break my heart and would only break his spirit further, I do believe this to be true.” 

The High Priestess nodded, her wise eyes softening further. “Yes” she said “I believe this to be true as well. There is nothing more to be said or done then. You two must now forge your way and may her silvery radiance shine upon your hearts so that you do not stray from her path.” 

I nodded and got up, bowing slightly before leaving the room. 

I walked back to the main hall, where the faithful were already starting to set large tables for the midday meal. I looked about for Sil’il but could not spot him – then, suddenly, I felt his arms embracing me from behind. I turned around to face him and he hid his face in my neck, his body becoming heavier as he released the tension he was feeling in my arms. 

“The things you said… That you would say such things for me…” He lifted his face and looked into my eyes. “Were those words true?” 

I nodded. 

“You make me feel strange, again and again. I want to be with you…” 

“We are leaving in only a few days’ time, we will be together every day” I smiled as I answered him, even though I knew what he had meant. I was sorry to deny him, but I felt that he had to stay at the Temple until we were ready to go. I thought we had stretched the High Priestess’ tolerance to a dangerous extent already and did not wish to be provocative in the face of her kindness. I saw him lowering his eyes in disappointment and the regret I felt inside me was biting indeed. “We will meet at the harbor, I will send a messenger with the name of the ship when we have struck a deal with one of the captains.” 

He nodded and pressed his face in my neck again, holding me close. I felt a slight movement from his lips but the word was only a whisper. Then he spoke it out again, this time louder: “Loff’ta”. 

“Mmm? What does that mean?” 

“Happy…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***...the _truth_ of your natures and intentions:** This refers to a process a priestess of Eilistraee would normally only go through in order to assess the worth of supplicants for a Love-Binding ritual, the Eilistraeean form of marriage. While Divina and Sil’il have not requested such a ritual, the High Priestess is taking liberties with them due to her concerns over her ward’s readiness to enter a relationship, especially now that they have announced their intention to leave together.


	10. Street Walking, Night Stalking

“Couldn’t we have just teleported?” croaked Anna before heaving again over the water, her face slightly green. 

“What kind of Waterdhavian _are_ you? It is high summer, the waters are not even choppy! And no, we could _not_ have _just_ teleported. From now on please assume we cannot just teleport anywhere unless we have already passed it once already. Sil’il has never been to Baldur’s Gate, remember?” 

“I am not from Waterdeep.” More retching sounds. After a while she pulled back from the taffrail and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “…and why should it matter whether he has been or not?” She sounded positively exhausted by now. 

“Because magic.” 

She tried to glare at me but ended up doubling over in misery instead. I rushed to steady her and decided that maybe a more detailed response was deserved, seeing as her condition was already torturing her enough: “I am sorry, this is just how the spell works. Everyone that is part of a teleportation spell must have at least seen the place where they are trying to get to and to have a relatively good idea of how it looks like. Otherwise the risk that we get separated in the process and end up in completely unintended locales increases unacceptably.” 

She nodded weakly. 

“Listen maybe you should go to bed, ask one of the crew for a bucket… Take one of the lower bunks.” 

“I’ll take her” said Marcus, prying Anna from my arms and supporting her towards the hull of the ship, where our bunks were. It wasn't comfortable lodgings – a narrow and long room with six bunk beds, of which only four were needed. The journey would take us only two days – perhaps three if the weather turned – so Anna wouldn't have to suffer long, though I did hope she'd find her sea-legs by the next day. Travelling by water was a boring affair for all of us – except for Sil’il it seemed, who spent most of his time quietly on the deck, as close to the stern as possible. I would have expected him to have had more trouble with the water and the open sea, but he seemed to revel in it. As for us, bored though we were, the sea journey was a necessary evil: The way over land would have taken us almost a month on foot, shorter if on horseback but would eventually have cost more – more of our energies, more of our food supplies, more of our time. And while the sea was dangerous, a drawn-out journey over the Trade Way passing from nasty places like Trollbark Forest provided even more chance for danger. 

I left Sil’il on the deck and went down to the hull to find Marcus. “She asleep?” 

“’m ‘wake” she muffled in her pillow. 

I sighed. “I wish we had a bard to entertain us, or a deck of cards at least. At least we don’t have Artemis to remind us of the virtue of patience and the superiority of the Tel’Quessir whenever we complain.” 

Marcus rolled his eyes at me. “You know she doesn’t mean it this way, she is only keenly feeling the differences between us and finds them surprising is all.” 

I shook my head. Then I felt my eyes bulge of their own accord and lifted my face to look at Marcus. “You are fucking her, aren’t you?” I mouthed at him after making sure Anna was not looking my way, my face scrunched up in mock outrage. 

He did not seem to understand what my lips were mouthing. “What?!” he mouthed back, his eyebrows knitted together, his palms opening in a questioning gesture, but having picked up on my rather appalled look, he was already looking ready for a fight. If we had no bard, and no deck of cards, we could sure entertain ourselves with a little argument, I grinned to myself. I made a rude gesture with my hands and fingers, then caressed my face and neck with an exaggerated, wanton expression on my face. 

He pushed me out of the small cabin and closed the door behind him. “You are a child, you know? As to your ‘question’, the answer is: Yes, and?” 

“Yes, and when were you thinking of telling me?” 

At least he had the decency to look slightly shamefaced at this last query. “At first, I didn’t know if it was serious, then when I understood it was you went off to the Underdark and then… there was the… Festival season and catching up… And the timing just never seemed right. Alright?” 

“She is an _elf_ , Marcus, things are always serious. They do not give away the ‘goods’ for fun, for them it means something different. Are you prepared for that?” 

He squirmed a little under my gaze. Marcus and I had had a little affair, close to a decade ago. Things had not worked out: Neither of us were very serious about being faithful at the time and the eruptions of jealous confrontations between us had left us rather exhausted after just two months. We soon realized we were much better suited to just being friends and returned to the peaceful, warm friendship we’d had before physical complications got in the way of our affection for each other. He still chastised me for not being able to settle down, not being serious enough about maintaining a relationship for a long period, but I knew well enough that he was the same. It had only occurred a few times since I’d first gotten to know him that I’d seen him engaged in something serious, in something that lasted longer than just a few months. And now an _elf_? He was going to break her heart. 

“I am serious about her.” He finally said. 

“I hope so. I might whine and complain but… Artemis is a friend. I really would suggest you visit an elven community for a while. I know you grew up with your human parent only… it will be difficult for you to fully understand unless you immerse yourself for a while.” 

“Divina, for crying out loud! She was born in the city, not in some glade!” 

“To elven parents. In an elven community. Trust me, in some affairs the blood simply cannot be thinned. And although you are right, she might not have exactly the same outlook on things as her pure, forest-dwelling brethren, it is unlikely she has no inkling of their ways and mores on matters of love. Lust is not understood well by elves, Marcus. Rare is the elf who understands passion the way you and me might. Now _drow_ on the other hand…” I grinned. It was not my intention to turn the subject to myself, but to take him out of the hot skillet I was grilling him in. Even though I was genuinely concerned about Artemis, the truth of the matter was that Marcus came first. I was not going to make him uncomfortable any longer than necessary and I had already said my piece. He burst out laughing at my words, clearly aware of my ploy since he immediately gave me a short hug.

* * *

“I am scared for you” I said while sitting down next to Sil’il on the deck. It was evening and we were fast approaching Baldur’s Gate - the city’s lights were already visible and shining on the distant shore. Sil’il pursed his lips and I could tell in an instant that he had taken my words as an insult. No way to tiptoe around drow pride in the face of the surface’s reality however. This discussion needed to happen. 

“You have before you a male that has survived for more than a century under the cruelty of Lolth, jalil. Do you not realize what this means? I am strong. Why would you look down on me now? You have never done so before.” 

“We talked about this last night with Marcus and Anna, did we not? The rest of the surface is not like Waterdeep my jaluk. I have no doubt in your prowess, but I also know the deep prejudice that runs in our blood above ground. There are things you cannot solve with strength. You cannot turn against an entire city, nor would you want to, I am sure. Understand that we are approaching new territories, territories in which you will be viewed with suspicion at best, with open hostility and violence at worst. And you _cannot_ react. That will only make things worse for you.” 

I unfolded the cloak I had on my lap - the one Marcus and Sil'il had picked together when they went shopping - and picked a pair of gloves and a circlet I had wrapped inside. The circlet was a fine one, made in Thay and specifically intended for wizards, whose mental prowess it increased. However, unlike most of its kind, this Red Wizard contraption also had a visor that covered the face – which was why I had picked it for him from my own personal collection of little hard-won trophies I had decided not to part with over the years. I handed him the lot. 

“You will need to wear this at all times when walking inside a city from now on. Please wear the cloak right away. The visor and gloves will only be necessary during the daytime. The darkness of the night should render the hood of your cloak sufficient cover for the evenings and you can keep your hands hidden in its folds for the most part. Please understand and please believe me when I say that other cities are not like Waterdeep. Baldur’s Gate has grown larger and more influential but lacks the tolerance of our city. When it comes to those with dark skin, Eilistraee’s presence in Waterdeep over the past centuries has greatly improved matters, even though as you probably saw yourself, not everyone is welcoming or comfortable. You need to be prepared for the worst.” 

Sil’il’s features had gradually been softening as I was talking and I felt the urgency and earnestness of my emotions was getting through to him. Still, the real test would come once we were on dry land. He put on the cloak I’d handed him and we went below deck to fetch our belongings. The boat was starting to moor. 

“Ready?” said Anna with a bright, eager smile. She was clearly feeling better than the day before. 

“I would like to say yes, but I find that I am losing my nerve. I wonder if our mixed company is going to cause a catastrophe.” I forced my lips into a nervous little smile that belied the sudden hold fear had taken over me. I was not fooling anyone, of course, least of all Marcus, who quickly rested a comforting hand on my arm. 

“Divina, it will be alright. We have our cells across the Coast. If need be we can arrange for a swift transport back. Even better, you can always teleport Sil’il back to the Promenade if the need becomes too pressing. For now, the guise of the cloak should be enough for walking the streets of cities. Once we are with trusted associates or others we work with they can take our company as guarantee and trust in our goodwill – he will not have to hide in front of everyone. Things will turn out alright, one way or the other.” 

I nodded. It was true, we could at the very least teleport back. That would mean that I would have to leave without him afterwards until I completed the mission. But anything would be better than to see him dead at the hands of a brainless City Watcher. I gritted my teeth in silent fury at the thought of someone touching him. An image of him kissing the back of my legs and feet the morning after the Cynosure Ball floated into my mind, uninvited. Mine. He was _mine_. 

We hoisted our bags over our shoulders and disembarked in silence. The harbor was largely quiet, even though during the daytime it was a hub of activity – the Gate had become the preeminent mercantile power of the Coast in the past century. The only sounds permeating the silence were discordant shouts and the occasional laughter from shadowy corners. “Where shall we go seek sleeping quarters?” asked Marcus. 

I was about to answer when Anna interjected: “I recommend the Purple Wyrm Inn and Tavern – it has been a meeting place and occasional base of operation for Harpers for centuries. If…uh… if we run into any trouble…” and at that she looked meaningfully towards Sil’il “…then I might be able to do something about it.” 

I shook my head. “No. We will go to the Blade and Stars. Dinner is served in guests’ private quarters which means Sil’il can eat peacefully without the circlet and without worrying about attracting undue attention. The Purple Wyrm serves meals at a dining hall, does it not? Moreover, the Blade and Stars has a stabling facility. We can get horses at the guest discount rate when it is time to move out of the city and exchange them for fresh ones at some other city or town along the way.” 

“That makes sense” agreed Marcus. 

We started making our way through the harbor area more quickly now that we had set towards our next destination. “Ooh, I still haven’t found my land legs. I feel rocked by the sea yet – she is unwilling to let me go of out of her cold, dark embrace” 

“Is the night making you poetic, Anna, or is there a bit of the bard in you that you haven’t allowed us a glimpse unto yet?” I asked. 

Anna laughed childishly, seemingly completely unperturbed by the obvious seediness of our surroundings. I wanted to get out of the docks as quickly as possible and this desire caused me to start walking faster, leading the group a couple of steps ahead of them. As we turned a corner, a figure stepped out of the shade of the building, his face and naked torso becoming illuminated under the streetlight. 

“Looking for a warm body? I could ignite the fire in yer loins my beautiful naiad of the harbor. Ooh, I dare say ye smell like the sea! Is that everywhere? I long to taste ya.” 

When I tried to swerve around him, he blocked my way and continued with drivel about his length, girth and talent. I thought I heard the dull chink of metal and next thing I knew blood gushed out of the youth’s mouth. His eyes rolled backward and he fell face forward to the ground, causing me to side-step to avoid him. Sil’il appeared from the shadows and calmly wiped the blood from his blade with a thick, soft cloth. Shock jolted through me like lightning. I looked at him in disbelief and then knelt by the young man, turning him over with difficulty. Death does make a body heavier, even as the weight of the soul is whisked away. 

“...no…” I whispered. “No, no, no….” I lamented, louder this time. I got up and looked at the drow who seemed completely unfazed – his features set in a mask of angry determination. I slapped him hard across the face with the back of my hand. He staggered backwards in shock and raised his hand to his lip. It was bleeding. I felt Marcus pulling me back and somewhere in the back of my mind I could hear him and Anna telling me something in dismay as they tried to restrain me. I paid them no heed, my attention solely focused on Sil’il. 

“What are you doing my foolish jaluk!? They will _kill_ you! They will kill you on sight if they see you doing something like this, if they even _suspect_ you! They will _kill_ you and _then_ what will I do?” I was trembling with fury and fear. 

I felt Marcus leaving my side and raising a hand towards Sil’il, attempting to heal him, but Sil’il caught his hand in mid-air and stopped him. He shook his head. “It is my pain to bear.” 

“Why would you do this? He was just a streetwalker. A streetwalker, Sil’il!” I cried. 

He shook his head. “I did not know. All I knew was what I saw and heard. I did not know.” 

Marcus touched my shoulder, gently at first, then more persistently when he found I could not disengage from the shock of the situation. “Divina, we must act quickly. We cannot risk a City Watch patrol passing by. Quickly.” 

His words took me out of my bewildered state. I scanned the surroundings. “There” I pointed towards a grate on the street. “Carry the body over there. We are going down the sewers.” 

We moved partway inside the tunneled corridor and dropped the body on the floor, still close enough to the grating above to have enough light from the street and the moon to work with. “I need to study for a bit… It is a beginner’s spell, it should not take me too long but I need to focus so that I can allow my mind to grip its essence.” 

I made a face. I never cast that particular spell: As deleterious as it was to enemies, so was it dangerous to the caster. You needed to get a firm grip on your target and that usually brought your own armor-less body in breathing distance of the enemy’s clutches – if not directly within them. That boy was dead though… I looked for a place to sit and finding only filth and decay around me decided to keep standing. This trip was not starting out well. I took my spellbook out of my sack and rifled quickly through the first pages. There… Before I could start concentrating, we heard a shuffling sound and a hideous, raspy groan. “Curses!” I raised my hand and cast a cantrip, throwing a small gathering of Dancing Lights down the dark corridor, leaving them suspended in the air at regular intervals from each other.

“Zombies!” cried Anna, drawing her bow. 

“Just stay back with Divina while she studies her book, Sil’il and I will run up ahead and intercept them” said Marcus, drawing his greatsword. Sil’il gave a slight nod and crept into the shadows, disappearing from sight. 

I felt a drop of sweat running from my forehead as I tried to imprint the subtleties of the spell in my mind, imagining how to delicately push and pull at the weave to achieve the intended result. The splattering thuds of rotting bodies hitting the floor reached my ears and I tried to block the sounds so as to not disturb my concentration. Finally, I went into a short trance that allowed me to gain control of the magic. I sighed with relief and closed the book, dropping it back into my sack. I walked over to the body of the dead man, grabbing his face in my hands. My fingertips pressed hard on his temples and I felt my fingers flare, then quickly stepped back as the familiar _“WHOOSH”_ of combustion erupted through the body, first burning the skeleton and then bursting through muscle and flesh, burning the once fair body to cinders till only a pile of ashes remained. 

“Smells like—” started Anna. 

“Don’t even go there, I am warning you.” I cut her off. 

“Is it done?” I asked Marcus who had in the meantime returned, Sil’il in tow. 

“Like hot butter knives through butter my dear” he responded, shaking his greatsword in order to cause the mucous and blood to glide away from his blade. 

I wrinkled my nose. “Let’s go. May the rest of this visit to the Gate be less eventful.”

Our rooms were comfortable and well furnished, with bed and bath. I do not know about Marcus and Anna, but Sil’il and I certainly did not have appetite for our food and just moved it about our plates after just a few bites. I looked at the cut on his swollen lip and felt remorse mixed with anger. The coarse crystal on my ring of protection had caught him when I struck him. The wound was shallow and would close in a couple of days, but it looked quite painful for the time being. Of course, I was sure Menzoberranzan had hardened him enough for far, far worse wounds and pain – his scarred torso was testament to that – but that did not make me feel any better. I removed my ring and decided to put it on again only when I knew we would engage in battle: Suddenly, the item that had accompanied me on most of my missions had taken a sinister luster to its gleam. I got up, made one of the cloth napkins wet with some warm water and stood above him, dabbing his lip to clean it from the crusted blood. He sat there motionless, looking rather beaten. I hugged his head close to my stomach and asked: “Why did you do it?” 

“He treated you with disrespect. What’s worse, he blocked your way as you tried to move away. My blood boiled. Hawrest jaluk” ***** He sighed against my robes and I felt him relax a little bit under my touch. 

“Sil’il, even in Menzoberranzan you are not allowed to murder someone on the streets, what were you thinking?”

“Only if you are seen, only if you get caught. We were not being observed, I checked.” 

I exhaled loudly in exasperation. “There are city patrols conducted all day and all night in this city! Someone from the Watch could have turned the corner and seen us! Tell me you will never do this again, tell me you know it is wrong.” 

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. “I… understood it was wrong when you told me he was a streetwalker… I will be more careful… But do not ask me to stand by and watch if you get accosted by _hawrest rumnen_ … insolent wretches…” He squeezed a little harder. 

“At least let me react myself first. I can defend myself perfectly, I assure you.” 

“Beneath you…” he whispered softly. “That kind of human waste is beneath you. A living chamber pot. How could I let you dirty your hands…” He took my hand in his and kissed the fingertips. 

I bit my lip. The dissonance of the soft voice speaking such unspeakably harsh words was rather astounding. “Let’s go to bed,” I said. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” I felt him nod against me but he made no move to get up. I bent slightly and kissed the top of his head. “Come on,” I whispered, and took my disheartened brute of a dog to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Hawrest jaluk:** insolent male


	11. Ghost

I woke up the next day to find him with an arm around my waist, his cock as hard as steel pressed against my thigh. I turned to look at him and he looked peacefully asleep, long, dark eyelashes throwing shadows on his high cheekbones as the sunbeams from the window behind him hit his face. _He looks beautiful, like a Celestial Eladrin_ , I thought, feeling desire stir inside me, both from his feel as well as his visage. I gave him a hungry kiss on the lips and he woke up, drawing a sharp intake of breath as the wound on his lip smarted. I ran the back of my fingers against his shaft and he seemed to forget about the pain, returning the kiss with equal fervor and breaking apart only to say _“I’ve missed you…”_ in a hoarse voice, his left hand clutching my hip. I had missed him too. Between his stay at the Temple before we left and the cramped quarters during our sea voyage, we’d only managed a few stolen kisses on the deck on our way to the Gate. I felt a flutter of excitement at his words, felt he was coming to terms with expressing his needs better and that emboldened me to kiss him deeper, as though I could convey everything I felt at that moment with my tongue and lips. I continued stroking him with the back of my hand, softly enough to take note of how silky that part of his skin felt, how my fingers felt cool against his hot--

A knock came on the door. “Time to go cleric shopping, get up.” 

Fuck. Sil’ils violet eyes flashed with rage, the pale color becoming stormier, then came the thunderclap, intoned in a seething growl: “Ka uk zhahus naut dosst abbil Usstan orn'la waess ukta, Usstan swariy.” *****

He turned to look at me and catching my blank expression he opened his mouth again, but I stopped him: “I get the gist, I am sure.” I turned on my back and sighed. 

“Sounds like you’re awake!” called Marcus again in a perversely satisfied voice. 

“We are coming!” I shouted back and stomped off the bed. Sil’il got up after me, wrapping his arms around my waist, his fingers tracing a feathery pattern on my belly. 

“I will please you later my Goddess, you can do with me what you will tonight, when we return” he whispered against the side of my neck as he leaned in to give me a tender bite, the tip of his tongue flicking just once on the skin, leaving a promise of craving to chase my thoughts all day, like a thirst I’d not be able to quench. 

After getting dressed we made our way downstairs where we found Anna and Marcus breakfasting on bread with cheese over at the bar. Marcus tried to hand me a piece and I shook my head. He shrugged and put the bread back in the plate. 

“Eat” said Sil’il from behind me. I turned to look at him, his face hidden behind the visor of the Thayvian circlet. 

I shook my head again. “Not until you can eat.” 

He leaned his face against my temple and the visor felt cold as ice on my skin. “I feed on your kindness, jalil” he whispered, and I almost didn’t catch his words, blocked as they were from the metal. 

Anna dropped from her stool and quickly rubbed her hands together absently and audibly, as if to indicate she was done. “We ready to go?” 

“Mm, I’ll just take this bit on the road, let’s go.” Said Marcus. 

“Do you have the mission notes with the information with you?” I asked.

“Eh, no need. We need recruit number 108 and we both know the address. That’s all there is to know.” 

“Nothing else we know about this person?” 

“They are a cleric.” 

“Hilarious." I grimaced. "A man? A woman? Human? To which God are they pledged? Something else?” 

Marcus sighed. “Sometimes I think Artemis has a point about your impatience. All will be revealed within the hour, relax. Let’s just go and find out, shall we?” And with that, he stuffed the remnants of his bread in his mouth, put on a helmet with a visor himself and clipped a cloak over his shoulders, despite the warm weather. Adventurers were a trite sight in any big city, but they were a dime a dozen in Baldur’s Gate and our appearance as a group was not really going to bat any eyelashes. Still, Sil’il’s getup was a little more out of the ordinary during the height of summer and Marcus’ assistance in ensuring he did not stick out like a sore thumb was appreciated. 

Despite having seen the Gate’s Slackliner headquarters before, it still managed to surprise me how large and imposing the building was – three stories high and broad enough to take the space of three modest residential buildings. I shook my head. How had Baldur’s Gate grown so large and powerful over the years? It practically dominated the Western Heartlands. Despite Waterdeep’s glamour and cosmopolitan nature, there _was_ something about the Gate that made you feel as though you were in the center of the known world. Its position was also much more favorable – between several peripheral cities, and with access to both the Sea of Swords as well as to the river Chiontar, making it a naval and mercantile power to be reckoned with. Still, I would never be able to trade the political and societal intrigue of my adopted city for the metropolitan feel of the Gate: There was still something sterile about it, something too lawful and official, restricting and ordained. The constant presence of the Watch for one thing was overwhelming. As for the Grand Duke – why _had_ the parliament placed all the power in the hands of one figurehead? This was something my Waterdhavian sensibilities would never be able to come to terms with. Did the citizens here _like_ to have to give so much credence to authority, I wondered? 

I made to enter the building, then through the glass of the window next to the door I caught sight of a face I hadn’t seen in seven decades, but neither had it aged a day nor had my memory of the torture those cruel, silver-flecked, black eyes subjected me to faded. Instead of pushing on the door I backtracked and pressed my back against the wall, well away from the window. Marcus gave me a look as though I had lost it. 

“That bitch!” I breathed.

He cocked an eyebrow, waiting for more information. 

“Artemis! That bitch! I cannot believe she would do this to me. She must have known she’d be here, she studied the recruits carefully to source us a cleric that would match our skill – she must have gone through all of them!” 

“Or just the clerics” he answered sensibly. 

“…Okay, maybe she didn't know. Then this is an infernal coincidence, is that it? Can the fates really be so biting! Why didn't she stay in the bloody forest!” 

“Will you please start making some sense? …Or that’s what I would say if I couldn't clearly see that you’re terribly upset, I'm sorry.” He made a face at me by means of an apology, finally catching on and waiting till I was ready to speak again. 

I carefully glanced through the window, still hugging the wall. “There, you see? The sun elf with the bronze skin and wavy black hair, wearing the light green scale armor. It’s Ciel. My sister.” 

“Um, wow, that’s your sister? You look nothing alike – let’s start with the issue of the skin first—” started Anna but I quickly interrupted her: 

“Half-sister, she’s my half-sister. I take after our father, she takes after her mother. My skin is a mix I guess, looking like neither.” I glanced at my fair skin, not the pristine, almost bluish white of my mother, not the bronze of my father. A healthy ivory, with golden undertones like sheaved wheat. Sil’il was trying to peek through the window while keeping most of his masked face unseen. Marcus rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment. 

“So, is this a stalemate? Or will we still go in?” he finally asked. 

I was thankful that he presented it as though the choice was up to me and my discomfort, but I think he already knew what the answer was going to be. We could not let something like this get in the way of getting the help we needed for this operation. “I guess we will have to go in” I said, my voice cooler with the detachment that grows once one realizes they simply have no choice at all. 

The tranquillity was short-lived: As we were about to walk in, I thought better of it again and grabbed Marcus’ cloak, tugging on it. “Or, or you could go pick whoever 'recruit number 108' is and come and find me and Sil’il back at the inn” I said, losing my nerve. I caught sight of Sil’il studying me carefully and felt shame for my display of weakness. I wished it wasn’t so, but deep inside I knew he still carried with him many of the Underdark's learned behaviors and assumptions about power and weakness. Was it always going to be this way? No, this could not be – he had, after all, on a number of occasions shown me the more vulnerable sides of himself. _Yes, but you are the female_ , another, sarcastic voice inside my head persisted in reminding me. I made a face. “Never mind. Let’s just go in. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***“Ka uk zhahus naut dosst abbil Usstan orn'la waess ukta, Usstan swariy.”:** If he was not your friend I would skin him alive, I swear.


	12. And Then They Were Five

“Tell me this is a sick joke.” I said. 

Ciel looked at me, her huge, almond-shaped eyes looking rather warmer than I remembered from my youth. “Sister, I came here to wait for you… I knew one day we would meet. And now fate has conspired to bring us together again.” 

“First of all, never call me that again” I said in a louder voice than intended, drawing the curious glances of nearby Slackliners busying themselves about the building. “Secondly, are you telling me you came here to wait for me? Why did you not come to Waterdeep if you had a burning desire to see me? Not that you should interpret this as an invitation, you understand.” 

She tilted her head to the side, looking perplexed. “I arrived a year ago. I knew you had founded the Funambulist organization but I also knew you had relinquished your leadership role. I heard that you were a field agent. I presumed you would pass through Baldur’s Gate sooner or later – everyone does. And here you are.” 

Of course, elven logic. And a year, it probably felt like nothing to her. Always lucky, always rising to the top, always unscathed. “Why look for me anyway Ciel? What is there left to be said?” She stayed silent. “Well?”

“Even if I tell you, Divina, it does not look like it will make a difference at this very moment. Why don’t you take me with you and let me prove my use to you? Of course, you could choose someone else. But there is a reason why Artemis chose me: I am two hundred and fifty years old. There is much a cleric can learn in this many years. Much that a human or other race may not. By no means am I claiming that I am better than everyone else. But I can be of great help to your cause, of that I am sure.” 

I glanced at Marcus. Ciel must have had at least one hundred and thirty years of training by now. Certainly not the most impressive amount of time by elven standards, but elven clerics were not common among our ranks, given the propensity of most of the Seldarin pantheon towards striving for the preservation of good – it simply clashed too much with our ultimate goal of balance. Elven druids were another story of course, though elves dedicated to druidic arts rarely wished to stray from nature into a cosmopolitan city like Waterdeep. Artemis too was a relative rarity – we probably owed her presence amongst us due to the fact that she had grown up in the city. Paladins were completely absent from our ranks for obvious reasons. At the very least in Waterdeep. I rubbed my face with my palms and tried to gather my thoughts. “How do you reconcile your worship of Corellon Larethian with membership amongst our ranks, Ciel? I see great conflict of belief—” 

“I… strayed. I lost my faith about a decade after you left us” she said, interrupting me, and as I looked up in shock I saw at least two more pairs of raised eyebrows around our table, but even though I couldn’t see Sil’il’s features I knew he would not look that surprised – he had been through the same himself. 

“And then?” I asked. 

“And then I lost many of my boons, was drained of much of my knowledge. I felt lost for a while, but there was a reason why everything happened… The grief of our father’s passing, the grief of the Silver Lady’s passing… My mother’s inability to cope with your presence… All of it had shaped my childhood and twisted my heart in many ways. I came to understand my devotion was superficial. That there was much pain and shadow lurking inside. Eventually, I found my way to our Lady of Grief, Vandria Gilmadrith. My sorrow found a home in her bosom and as my training continued in her service I regained skills lost and won boons new. Our Lady of Grief specializes in forging alliances to prevent further sorrow, what is more, she is accommodating to clerics of a more measured heart and accepts a variety of natures in her service. I see no conflict between my beliefs and my membership here.” 

The rest of our company had stayed silent throughout our exchange, sensing the delicacy of the situation. Anna, usually full of frothy gaiety looked particularly uncomfortable, which made sense, considering she was the only one that had no idea about my history with Ciel or the Sun Elves. I pressed my face in my palms again. What a situation to find myself into. I thought I had left it all behind, why was the past chasing after me now, after all this time? And still, the matter of her experience alone spoke for itself. Artemis had sourced us the best available agent she could, I was sure, even if she was poking her nose where it didn’t belong at the same time. Considering she had not given me advance warning, she surely was trying to force this meeting, bringing me before a _fait accompli_ , knowing full well I would see the rationality of keeping Ciel in our company for this mission.

 _“Lle naa creosa e' lye ai nosse”_ I said in High Elven, trying to welcome Ciel in our company and indicating to her my intentions to forge a truce, at least for now. 

“Oh, sist—Divina, your accent has not improved at all! In fact, I would say it has worsened considerably. Have you been remiss in your studies?” Her eyes were full of innocent surprise and displeasure, the famed Sun-Elven insensitivity and complete lack of awareness of appropriate human decorum, lost in assurance of cultural superiority. 

I gritted my teeth and tried to smile. “I will not make the mistake of subjecting you to the sound of my coarse accent again Ciel. My mistake.” 

She was right – I _had_ been remiss in my studies. High Elven takes more than a century to fully master – one of the reasons Sun Elves matured so slowly was the need for proper schooling in the ways of their people, their language, their art, their magic. I would never be able to master it outside the community, certainly not in a human town where all I heard around me was common. Still, I wished she could have graciously accepted my attempt at making her feel welcome. She looked uncertain at my words, as though she was trying to pry a hidden meaning from them. Evidently, whatever time she had spent outside the High Forest had alerted her to the noxiousness of sarcasm and to the undertones of acrimony that could hide so well in the most innocuous of sentences. 

Eventually she gave up and smiled: “It is no trouble. I will teach you more if you so desire. It is my duty as elder.” 

“Cut the crap, Ciel. I told you, no more of this family talk. You are here as part of a group going on a mission. Nothing more, nothing less.” 

“I cannot join you if I must hide who I am. I am proud of who I have become, Divina!” 

“No one is asking you to hide anything about yourself! Just stop trying to force some sort of familial bond on me! For the rest you have as much right to speak your mind as anyone here! Satisfied?” Her bee-stung lips stretched as she passed a nervous tongue over her teeth, thoughtful for a moment before finally nodding her acquiescence. “Good. Where next, Marcus?” 

He looked like he was sweating sling-bullets, but Anna looked rather relieved. “Umm… The Ilmatari Temple, I believe, though some of the afflicted have sought refuge at the Temple of Torm, due to overcrowding.” 

“Alright,” I said, getting up “let’s go visit both.”


	13. Contamination

Marcus walked ahead of us in the entry hall of the temple and respectfully removed his helmet to greet the priest that had come to meet us. “We greet you, Revered Painbearer and seek your counsel as we strive to end the suffering of those placed in your trust. Please apprise us of the situation as best you can.” 

Even though I had not originally perceived any tension in the priest, he seemed to relax visibly when Marcus addressed him. He certainly had a way of making others receptive, of making them willing to listen even when they were not really prepared to. Not that it was necessary this time around – our goals with the Temple were well aligned. The cleric proffered a small basket with linen napkins, nodding. “Place these over your noses… You will need them.” 

The napkins were infused with lavender and lemon balm essences and saturated to the extent of being almost overwhelming. The moment we walked in the central hall however the previously overwhelming scent became woefully insufficient: The air was thick with the scent of rot and decay as though death had descended amongst us. Almost all of us doubled over, coughing desperately, our bodies trying in vain to reject the intrusion, the horrible assault on the senses. I felt saliva pooling uncontrollably in my mouth as waves of nausea overtook me. “Please try to calm your bodies down my children,” said the cleric softly, “it will only get worse the more you resist.” I lifted my face to look at him and he appeared completely calm and unperturbed, as though the stench could not reach him. I tried to calm my breathing and to inhale less deeply, focusing instead on what I could find of the scent of lavender and lemon balm in my napkin. Sil’il had stuffed his under his visor, and seemed to be suffering the worst of it if his body language was anything to go by: The famed drow obsession with cleanliness, baths and scented oils. Not to mention that any defects were culled immediately – no one in their right minds in the Underdark would attempt to heal such a disorder as had struck these poor souls. Instead, they would have been killed at the first sign of disease. Anna’s eyes were tearing from the sickeningly sweet and putrid scent and I could sympathize – it almost felt caustic. I walked towards the men and women prone on bedrolls on the floor – about thirty of them in total. Their foreheads were beaded with sweat and they wore tortured expressions on their faces. Most had thrown the light sheets to the side, sheets that were covered in yellow and light pink stains. Their bodies were full of oozing, gaping ulcers filled with pus. 

A new wave of nausea overtook me and I tried to swallow as quickly as possible the thin, sickening saliva that was threatening to flood my mouth. “What in the name of the Gods is going on here? The Open Lord told us there was a… disease, but nothing could have prepared us for such a sight!” The priest looked at me with a mixture of sympathy and resignation. “Speak my good man, please! This is an unspeakable horror that has found these people! Tell us what you know!” 

“My sister, your indignation at this injustice matches that surely felt by the Crying God. Calm your heart a moment and I will tell all I know” he responded. 

As the temple bell struck the hour, novices appeared and started applying damp cloths on the foreheads of the sick and proceeded to clean their open wounds. I turned my gaze back to the priest, trying to keep my focus on the conversation instead of the smell and the groans of pain. 

“At first we had no idea what was going on. All we knew was that people were coming to us for aid, all with the same symptoms you have just witnessed. Some last a tenday after the symptoms appear, some perhaps longer or shorter. We quickly found out that it is not contagious – we are a testament to this as we do not take precautions against suffering but face it willingly, in the hopes we can take it unto us and save our fellow man with prayer. Death from this disease is painful and slow. But I can tell you this: We no longer believe it to be a disease at all, though a more fitting name I cannot fathom. Perhaps curse would be more accurate, though that too does not do it justice. It is a taint, my sister, perhaps borne from battle itself.” 

“Battle? Whatever would you mean?” 

“This has been going on for a few weeks before your arrival. The first victims arrived when the symptoms had already started… Recently, however, we have been seeing familiar faces come in with symptoms, where previously they bore none of the hallmarks of the disease: Men and women who came to us again, only a few days later after having battle wounds healed. To see a familiar face that had just recently departed healed and smiling come back with this disease…” He shook his head in dismay. “It breaks our spirit.” 

“So, wait, let me get this straight: You think going into battle causes this? That is… impossible!” cried Anna. 

I nodded in agreement. “I have to agree. This is too awful to be a higher power’s show of displeasure in the art of battle. The scale is not nearly large enough… Is it? I mean… We would have known! And… from what I understand it has been… err… progressing northwards for weeks. That makes it sound like something…” I struggled for words. “constructed by man or beast” I finally settled, still unsatisfied with my choice of words but finding no better way to describe it. The priest gave me an apologetic look and opened his palms outwards, indicating that, he too, was at a loss for words. “Tell us a little more of these men and women. Who are they? Do you know anything about them?” 

The priest nodded. “They are mostly members of our parish. A majority of them are thieves, some others are poor folk turned mercenaries. A few of them young adventurers, much like yourselves.” 

We stayed silent for a moment, pondering his words. I felt Sil’il’s hand on my arm, giving a light squeeze, then pulling me to the side. He lifted his visor slightly and leaned close to my ear to whisper: “The weapons. Ask about the weapons. What were they wounded with when they came for healing?” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. He leaned close again “Jalil, this is how drow assassins of old operated. They would ‘thin’ an enemy House by sending some desirable gifts, new snakehead whips or perhaps new flails for the priestesses, a powerful robe for the mages… All laced with novel poisons. It capitalizes on the desires of men to wield more power, but in the end, it is so often their undoing. Of course, that trick hardly ever works any more, drow rarely even accept a cup with drink from one another nowadays… But… Here? I do not know…” I nodded and squeezed his hand in thanks. 

I walked back to the priest who was busy talking with Marcus, Ciel and Anna. “You spoke about some of them returning days after having been healed from a wound – something that led you to believe this may be a battle-related taint.” 

“Yes.” 

“Can you tell us a little bit about the wounds they had suffered? Any evidence of poison? Do you perhaps still have any of the weapons?” 

The priest rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “They were wounds made by slashing or piercing weapons. I do have two weapons yes – I know it is not much, but do understand, assailants hardly ever leave their weapons behind after achieving their goal. I have a dagger retrieved from a man’s shoulder. And an arrowhead from a woman’s midriff. Would you like to see them?” 

“Yes please, and please bring some cloth. We are not to touch them, and neither should you for the time being.” 

A short while later he returned with the weapons on a tray. I passed my index finger a few inches above them, casting identification spells. “Minor enchantments, I see nothing special. No curse I can detect.” 

Marcus shook his head. “No, but I think this idea has merit Divina. My instinct tells me you are right.” 

“Not me, Sil’il.” 

Marcus nodded towards Sil’il appreciatively. “Alright. Will you permit us to take these items and send them to the Font of Knowledge ***** in Waterdeep? My Loreseeker colleagues may yet be able to identify what may be wrong with these weapons, and if they cannot, they can send it over to New Olamn *****." 

The priest nodded. “We are a poor church, catering to the underprivileged and downtrodden. We normally keep any such items as tithe. But if it is to help these poor souls, then yes, by all means, do with them as you see fit.” 

Marcus smiled his thanks and carefully wrapped the dagger and arrowhead in the cloth, then put them in his sack. The situation was much the same at the Temple of Torm, though there were fewer ailing awaiting death. One more weapon was retrieved, another small dagger, almost identical to the first one. 

“How will we find out? We still need to keep moving South and I have no way to use my sending spell for communication to whoever will be assigned to look at these at the Font of Knowledge. The spell requires me to know the other person.” 

Marcus laughed. “The old-fashioned way. I will drop these off with a captain at the harbor to send up to Waterdeep. And then…” He produced a leather glove from his sack and wore it, then he put two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud, sharp-toned whistle. A flutter of wings and a falcon landed on his gloved hand, turning a beady eye on him and opening its beak to let out a high-pitched greeting that let me catch a glimpse of a beautiful, small, sharp and thin tongue. Gorgeous. Marcus fearlessly leaned close to the sharp beak and whispered something, then he raised his arm high and the falcon flew away. “She will let us know when they know. She is patient, and as long as they feed her she will stay in the gardens of the temple. Though I assure you, she is a very good huntress" he added, as though the bird's reputation needed to be preserved. "Okay, so I think I’ll go to the harbor now to send these off. Meet back at the Blade and Stars in a couple of hours and then we can have dinner all together? Perhaps get a bit better acquainted?” He had turned his attention to Ciel, who nodded her agreement. 

“I will go find a messenger to send word to my Order that I will be heading south. Then I will go pack and meet the rest of you at the Blade and Stars. Whose room should I come to?” she asked. 

“Come to mine. Let’s meet there.” Said Marcus. 

“Until we depart… May I stay with--” 

“You can stay with me!” offered Anna with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Font of Knowledge:** The Temple of Oghma in Waterdeep, featuring one of the largest libraries and a great number of sages with expertise in various topics, ranging from the arcane to the mundane.
> 
>  ***New Olamn:** Bardic college, one of the few establishments on the Sword Coast offering traditional advanced scholastic training.


	14. Frictions

Sil’il and I spent a while in the city, he wanted to have a look and I wanted to visit _Sorcerous Sundries_ to see if they had anything that might catch my eye. I wished he was not wearing the circlet, because I really wanted to see his face, gauge from his eyes and expressions what he made of the biggest surface city on the Coast. He had a tendency to not express his thoughts very often, even now I had to guess what he might have been thinking when he spent all those hours on the deck of the ship, what might those eyes of his have been seeing in that endless blue that offered nothing to catch the eye’s attention beyond the repetitive lick of the waves, beyond the froth swirling about. Was it something he saw in his mind’s eye? Was it freedom? Was it awe at the expanse of sea and sky after a lifetime underground? Was it a deep existential need that was not getting fulfilled? What were the thoughts of a drow on the surface? Of this particular drow. And was I needy for wanting to know? It struck me, every now and then, that I had become enthralled by a creature I really knew very little about, beyond the primal, almost animal needs he expressed with his body, his gestures, his rare exclamations. Need for intimacy or sweetness, need for a preservation of dignity above ground, need for sleep, need for pleasure. Words were still sparse, in sharp contradiction to me, who had divulged almost as much to him in the space of a few months as I had divulged to the few people that had already been close to me for years. Moreover, I had impulsively bound my fate to his. I fingered the small ring on my ear and instead of fear, I found myself feeling relief at the memory. I brushed my hand against his and, to my vexation, only found the leather of his gloves instead of his skin. He turned to look at me, eyes like a mist of violet behind the visor that hid him from my sight. He removed his glove and came closer, matching his stride with mine so that with each step the backs of our hands would brush against each other. As usual, I failed to understand him precisely: How curious a gesture, for another man would likely have grasped my hand in his, but not this one. I felt both fear and excitement course through me as I looked around to make sure no one was paying attention. People milled around enjoying the sun, others gawking at the wares of street vendors, while yet others rushed ahead busily. Life still went on for everyone, and two hands lightly brushing against one another were not important enough to attract attention. The contrast of his dark skin against my own went unnoticed. 

We made our way back to the inn and placed an order for the daily special to be sent to Marcus’ room for the both of us. After freshening up we took two chairs from our room and went to Marcus’, greeting him and Anna and placed the chairs around the table. 

“You got the special? What is it?” 

“Fish from the Chiontar and a mug of pale ale. You?” I asked. 

“We both went for the turkey leg. They also had rabbit, but I figured we’d be eating plenty of that on the road.” 

Right on cue, my belly rumbled. I had not eaten since the day before. “Haha, I hear ya, but shall we wait for Ciel?” laughed Anna. 

I grinned and sat next to Sil’il at the table. “I guess. Though I hope she arrives before everything goes cold.” 

“Do you like our food, Sil’il?” asked Marcus. 

“Like it? I love it, abbil. ***** Though I do sometimes miss mushroom bread. We have no wheat in the Underdark.” 

Anna chortled: “Ah, the age-old problem: No bread can compare to the bread of home, and once you move away it is hard to not miss the taste. That’s why Waterdeep is full of different bakeries, though I would steer clear of the dwarven ones if you want to retain your teeth” she said with a wink. 

“So, what is your favorite up here then?” pressed Marcus. 

Sil’il didn’t have to think long on that one it seemed: “Fruit—” 

“Ah, **yes** , I am one for the pluckers ***** as well!” interrupted Marcus with a glint in his eye to the mirth of Anna, who after letting out a giggle, slapped his arm and glared at him. 

Sil’il continued unabated, clearly never having heard the surface slang before: “As horrible as the sun felt the first few days when I came to the surface, it seems like it makes everything taste better. And fruit seems to get a special blessing, does it not? Mmm, peaches especially. Cherries too. I wonder what fruit comes next? I haven’t seen my first winter yet…” 

“Not much I fear, friend. Apples, pears, oranges, as well as quinces that get baked into delicious tarts. Sometimes we get lucky and we get big shipments of tangerines from the south. And pomegranates when the frost has settled.” 

A knock came on the door and Ciel came in holding a tray, which she almost dropped in horror the moment she took stock of the company. She took a step back and glanced backwards towards the corridor. “Wh-what is going on here…? I-Irinal? ***** ” her voice was almost a whisper. She sounded genuinely scared, but also evidently confused at the easy companionship she had clearly just broken. Marcus got up, took the tray from her hands and guided her towards the table where he placed the tray in front a vacant seat. 

“Sil’il, it is just Sil’il.” He said. 

I caught myself not breathing and tried to exhale. I opened my legs slightly under the table and pressed my knee on Sil’il’s, causing the fold of my robe to fall to the side. I felt his leather legging on my skin, his warmth on my slightly cooler leg and hoped that the contact was as grounding to him as it was to me. 

Ciel had yet to sit down. “What is this…? H-how can this be? Is this some sort of tri-trick? Have you tricked me into joining your company in order to exact revenge?” 

I looked at her as though she had lost her mind. “Yes, the planes themselves revolve around you. How about we just eat, Ciel? He is an Eilistraeean, rescued from Menzoberranzan. If his company makes you nervous you should say it right now because he is not going anywhere.” 

“Divina! How can you trust this creature? It must be a ruse - ambush is likely not too far ahead! How could you have let down your guard like this after…. After everything… After everything we have been… taught. They are monsters! We… we must…” She swallowed hard, looking around for support. 

Anna had lowered her eyes and was blushing, likely experiencing that uncomfortable emotion of vicarious embarrassment so common among humans. Marcus was watching the exchange curiously, likely trying to gauge whether he should step in or whether to let me handle it. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Sil’il’s hand going down to his crossed belts and fingering the ornate handle of one of his blades. I stroked the back of his hand and he turned to look at me with a bitter, sullen expression. His features seemed to smooth slightly as we momentarily locked eyes. 

I shook my head at Ciel. “You have said enough. I will not tolerate another word on the topic. Sil’il is trusted among us and he will stay, regardless of your feelings on the matter. The choice on what to do next is yours.” I briefly wondered whether I would have to kill her. There was no way I was going to be on the run from authorities up and down the Coast because of her. Could we allow her to just leave if that was the path she chose? 

“How can you possibly say such things? What do you know of this… person?” 

Sil’il wrapped an arm around my shoulder and leaned closer, eyes narrowed as he spoke: “I am her mate. She knows me enough. And I know of you.” 

Well, I wished he hadn’t said that, no better way to give your enemies the upper hand than to let them know they had gotten into your head – however that did not seem to be top priority in Ciel’s mind at all, for she had started yelling: “ _MATE?!_ What are you, an animal? This is… barbaric! Divina, you have taken this creature to your bed?” Her silver-flecked black eyes bore into mine with such heat they looked like molten mercury. I felt anger searing through me, but instead of it bubbling out into a wave of rage, it felt instead as though I had just swallowed mouthfuls of lava and they had incinerated the inside of my chest and stomach, leaving me empty, hollow. 

I took Sil’il’s hand in mine and whispered “Let’s go”, quickly getting up from the table. A few moments after we had gone back to our room in stunned silence, Anna came in with our trays of food. She still looked uncomfortable and shamefaced. “Marcus will explain things… About Waterdeep, about the Promenade and the Maiden’s shrine above ground. Just… stay here for tonight. Hopefully things will be resolved by tomorrow.” 

“Anna? Don’t let her go without changing her mind. If she seems like she will go to the authorities we will have to kill her.” 

Anna shrugged. “I agree. I’m not planning to be on the run on my first mission with you. I got your back. Don’t worry.” 

I was surprised, but grateful. Still in shock, all I could do was nod. I was expecting her to protest, expected I would have to explicitly state that I was willing to do it myself, that she didn’t have to take part in such a deed. But our harper rogue seemed willing to dirty her hands. Or to keep up any appearances necessary if she was a spy, said my mistrust, belatedly kicking in. Just like the day before, we ended up eating our food in silence. In the absence of chairs – they were still left back at Marcus’ room – we ended up sitting on the floor, our backs against the bed. I was feeling like a warrior’s training dummy, the stuffing almost beaten out of me. Sil’il looked somber too, taking a small sip from his pale ale every now and then. I had downed my own in almost one go after dinner. I leaned my head against his shoulder.

“Do you regret it?”

He leaned his head against mine. “What?”

“Coming here. To the surface, to Baldur’s Gate… I don’t know.”

“What are you asking, exactly?”

I turned to look at him and his face was hard. It scared me a bit. What did he wish of me? Why was my question not clear? I wrapped my arms around my legs and rested my head on my knees. I guess I didn’t even know what I was asking myself. I was looking for an answer – anything – to make me feel better. 

“I don’t regret it, jalil. But your question stings me all the same. I don’t know why.” He laid his head on the bed behind us with a sigh. 

Somewhere in there we were miscommunicating again, I could feel it, but for the life of me I could not figure out where. “Well, do you want to talk about it? About the things Ciel said?” I finally asked.

“No. You had warned me. I thought I knew what to expect but I guess I was wrong. Things at Waterdeep were sometimes difficult, but mostly it amounted to suspicion. Today has been a… good lesson.”

What was the point of us if he couldn’t open up to me, I wondered. I felt irritated, irritated and sad despite knowing I could not help him unlearn the lessons learned in his youth, not immediately anyway. “At Waterdeep… Was there jeering at the ball? When you and the High Priestess turned for the customary wave to the crowd?” 

He looked surprised at my sudden question, but eventually just shook his head. “Just silence.” 

I wanted him to ask me how I felt as well, I craved to speak about the day, to let off at least some of the steam and anger I felt about Ciel’s re-entry into my life and her presumptuousness in telling me and all of us, really, how to live it, but I knew the question would not come. Saving face. Saving _my_ face, as he thought he should. Just like his answer – ‘No’, no need to discuss, valuable lesson. Saving his face. Somehow this made me feel even more empty inside. I thought back to the warmth of his body in the morning, to the promise of the evening, and felt resentful towards him, even though I knew perfectly well I was being unfair. And yet, I wanted him to grab me, devour me, annihilate my anger with his body, fill me up so I no longer felt hollow. Of course, I knew well enough, he would never do that – what pointless thoughts. 

I got up and offered him my hand. “Come on, let’s go.” 

“Where?”

“Somewhere to have a drink, something stronger than ale. Let’s go.” If he could not fill the void then something else would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***abbil:** friend, lit. trusted
> 
>  ***pluckers:** slang for breasts in Faerun
> 
>  ***Irinal:** one of the elven words for drow. Lit. ‘forsaken’


	15. Service is its Own Reward

He looked rather uncertain at my invitation. “I will accompany you if you wish, but I can hardly drink with that contraption on” he pointed to the circlet.

“Where we’re going you won’t need it. Just put it for now until we get there.”

We crept through the streets silently, moving north-eastwards. A western wind was blowing, tempering the summer’s heat, but bringing in a salty humidity from the sea that clung to the skin like a thin, oily film. The air smelt of the sea and rotting seaweed. I looked around, trying to get my bearings - it had been a while since I’d last gone looking for this place. Scanning the area, I spotted a landmark, a statue with a broken arm, which jogged my memory. I confidently turned the corner and found what I was looking for. I bent down and pulled on the sewer grate, which proved slightly more difficult than I’d imagined but thankfully Sil’il noticed me struggling and easily pulled it to the side. We climbed down the stairs and pulled the grate back into place. 

“Where are we going?” 

“A festhal. The Undercellar. It mostly serves as a place to go for gambling and drugs, but there are also strong, exotic spirits to be enjoyed, and sometimes paid company or shows.” 

Voices were getting louder as we approached, I could hear someone slamming their cards on the table and a shout, before I saw a man being thrown out by the burly guards. The drunken man sat there, bewildered on the sidewalk next to the running sewage, then eventually rubbed his rump, clearly unable to get up in his stupor. I stepped over him and walked in. We rented a private room in the back and leafed through the extensive menu. Soon enough, two scantily clad waiters – a male and a female walked in. “What is your pleasure tonight madam?” the swarthy man asked me. 

“A bottle of Sarthdew.” 

“How generous… I will see to one uncorked for your delight.” 

“And for you, sweetie? Won’t you remove your face guard and let me look at your face? I promise I don’t bite.” 

Sil’il took off his circlet and revealed a face full of defiance. The waitress seemed momentarily cautious, but then broke out in a grin: “I thought you’d be a pretty one when I saw you walk in, all leather-clad swagger in the height of summer and I see I was right. What will it be then, cutie?” 

“I smell the sweet tears in the air, but I do not see them in your menu. Do you have a ball or two?” 

The waitress raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Mmhhmm, I’ll get you set.”

“Are you sure about this?” I asked him after the waitstaff had left. 

“Mmm?” he looked at me inquisitively. 

“That stuff is dangerous… It… Don’t do it…” 

He seemed genuinely surprised. “I have partaken a small number of times before… It is nothing more than a sedative… Warriors use it to relax after battle… Assassins too, after a particularly stressful operation. What is the harm?” 

My eyebrows furrowed. “Not for us. Not for elves I mean – and certainly not for half-elves either. I guess your bodies are different that way, same as is the case with your alcohol. Some of the stuff you drink is pure poison for elves, humans too sometimes.” 

The waitress came back in and set a spirit lamp on the floor, then knelt down and lit it, before presenting Sil’il with a lacquered tray carrying a long, ornate Kara-Turan pipe, a needle and two little balls of opium. Meanwhile, my drink also arrived and the waitstaff left us again. Sil’il made himself comfortable, reclining on the throw pillows and I moved some of my pillows closer to him, bringing my glass of Sarthdew as well as the bottle with me. 

“What would it do to you then? What effect would it have?” he asked, as he took one of the little balls and started cooking it over the spirit lamp, drawing it out in strips that were almost as fine as hair and then reshaping it again and again. 

“It gives you dreams of paradise. You close your eyes and are transported to a world of otherworldly beauty, where the heart is ever glad and the body at once in peace and buzzing with joy.” I responded, looking at his handiwork a little mesmerized as the Sarthdew started relaxing me. It was strong. Ridiculously expensive, but just what I needed. Sil’il, satisfied with the consistency and burning point of the ball stuffed it in his pipe and lay back, taking a long, hard drag from the thin, long pipe. 

“That sounds rather good” he said. “I wish that’s what it did to drow as well…” 

“No, you don’t. After the utopian dreams come the nightmares if you don’t keep smoking. Nightmares that make the body shake in fear, nightmares that make grown men cry like little babes. You must keep smoking, for life becomes a living inferno if you don’t. And the more you smoke, the more you weaken. Until one day the time has come and you go to your God’s side.” 

He stopped mid-drag and looked at me, unnerved. “Then I will not offer you any. That sounds… awful.” 

I smiled and lay back on my pillows, not bothering with the glass any more. I took a couple of swigs straight from the bottle and lay my hand on my stomach, feeling as though thoughts of Ciel were finally leaving my mind. 

Eventually, I heard him stir and turned to find him cooking the second little sap-tear, formed into a dark ball. His lids looked heavier and his features calm. None of the tension I had seen in the Blade and Stars seemed to be left in his body. I was calmer too but envied his absolute sanguinity. The Sarthdew had done a good enough job to take the edge away, but the hollow feeling inside me remained. As he rested his head back onto the pillows and took his next long drag, I took another few swigs from the bottle and felt uninhibited enough to talk again. “You’d promised me pleasure this morning.” I was glad he was not looking at me, his eyes closed as they were, for I felt myself pouting. 

“Mmm, but you didn’t want pleasure when we went back to the bedroom.” He responded with a lazy, relaxed voice that I found at once sensual and infuriating.

“What do you know about what I want, Sil’il?”

“Your scent doesn’t lie, my jalil. If I had smelled desire on you I would have done anything to please you.”

The hand holding the pipe fell slowly to the floor and he fumbled with eyes closed to place it in the lacquered tray. Eventually he had to open his eyes to find where it was. By that time, I was standing above him, having slipped out of my mage robe, as naked as the day I was born. 

I knelt close to him and helped him out of his tunic. He was completely docile from the drug, his eyes calm, the violet looking rather liquid as he gazed at me. I removed his weapon belts and set them to the side, then took off his boots and started pulling down his leggings. 

“Why? Why, if you feel no desire?” He was lying there relaxed, completely pliable. His words lacked inflection, not even curiosity was permeating them. 

Instead of answering him, I pushed a finger inside me and pressed my thumb against my clit, then slid a second finger inside. I gave a few experimental pumps, my thumb rubbing gently over the nub, still hiding in its pink hood. He lifted his head slightly from the pillows and his half-lidded eyes opened with interest. I saw his cock filling with blood, sliding to the side and then effortlessly upwards as it engorged into a half-hard state. I removed my fingers and brought the tips close to his nose. His head obediently lifted higher, trying to have a taste. I lifted my hand higher, neatly avoiding him and smirked. I rubbed my juices on his now fully erect member, lubricating him. I was not excited enough to provide a great deal of moisture, but it was enough to make him slick. I started pumping my hand and the lewd sound made me shiver, awakening my body a little bit. 

“Why? Will you-- ah…!” he produced a small sound of pleasure that made me grin. “…will you answer?”

“I want you to chase the ghosts away. Can you do that? Sometimes you can’t find all the needs in a scent, my jaluk. Beyond longing… No, perhaps I should say before longing, there is an emptiness to fill. Can you do that?” My hand kept pumping, producing those obscene sounds from his body, a slippery clicking sound, as his own dew mixed with mine, preparing him for my body. I saw his back arching as he bucked into my hand, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and quivering as they became taut with need, forming little pillows and ridges of hardness right under his soft skin. 

“Anything… Anything my mate wants I will do.” he murmured. 

He tried to grab my hip, but I pinned his arm down with my free hand. His back arched again and he closed his eyes tightly. I eased my movements, letting him go and he started breathing more easily, his back falling onto the pillows again. He opened his eyes to look at me as I straddled him. Dew was pooling from the tip of his hardness onto his belly and I took some with my hand to lubricate myself. My anger, the emptiness I felt was not letting me lose myself in the moment at all, even though he looked so gorgeously pliant and wanton under my touch. I lifted myself on my knees as I straddled him and pushed his tip against my entrance. He felt warm and wet, but not wet enough for the tightness produced by my tense, angered state. As I forced him inside me, I felt as though the skin inside me was tearing and the pain was glorious, sharp and burning, perfect for chasing thoughts away, perfect for banishing pains that were not physical and couldn’t be soothed with alcohol or sleep. 

“Unnngh…” he moaned softly, the constricted passage that I offered him pulling at his skin, hurting him too. 

“Shh… It will get better soon…” I whispered. 

I made my movements long and slow, coaxing myself to accommodate him, cajoling my body to open up, to awaken so that the traction eased into slipperiness. I reached for his lips with mine and the moment I made contact his opened up expectantly, inviting me to explore him with my tongue. His yielding response finally pushed my body over an unseen threshold and I felt myself becoming wet and warm around him. He must have felt it too cause he hummed longingly into the kiss – the vibration on my tongue reaching all the way down to my core and making me clench with delight. Another hum, this time stronger, more ardent in nature. I started moving my hips faster and pleasure was drawn all over his features as he opened his eyes to look at me, his fingers grazing my nipples as I had drawn my torso up again to move better. He was about to say something but I stopped him: “Sil’il? I want to see that famous self-control, the result of all those years of training. Show me. I need you. I need you to keep going. You cannot indulge yourself, okay?” 

I didn’t know what I was doing. Yet some part of me did. I was taking out my frustrations on him, the frustration I felt about the past catching up with me in the most unexpected manner, the frustration of feeling like I was falling in love, a feeling like I was endlessly dropping through the sky for a man-boy, animal-instinct-person, innocent-cruel creature that would not share any thoughts with me, just kept exposing me to his raw feelings and needs, tugging at my heart in such a way that left it bloody, aching and honey-sweet, as though I was made to feel again after decades of not really having felt anything at all. Even though I had. But not like this. Nothing like this. And it wasn’t his fault. But here we were. Me, overwhelmed, he, open like a soft bud in spring, mine for the plucking. He nodded, his hands never once faltering from their caress over my nipples. My breasts kept bumping into his palms with every thrust and my nipples kept getting harder and harder, as his fingers moved over them each time they came into contact. 

“S-slower… go slower, Divina…” 

“I won’t go slower. You must hold on.” 

“…Please… s-slow down… please…” he begged. 

I thrusted harder instead, bringing my body into repeated contact with the little bush of white hair at the base of his cock. I felt my nub going harder too and I clenched, causing him to buck against me, and then his eyes couldn’t look at my face any more, he closed them and a look of deep concentration crossed his features. _“hh-aaah… nnngh!”_ he complained as I pushed him as deeply as I could and rubbed frantically against him, bringing myself into release. Eventually I slowed down to a gentle grind against him, my insides grasping at him lingeringly at the aftermath of my pleasure and as I calmed down I could feel him throbbing furiously inside me, hot and heavy, his twitching member hitting an upper wall in desperate need. I climbed off him and glanced at my work: A slick, dripping cock, swollen, irritated from not having found the release it so clearly needed, the warm gray of the skin turned red from the tip halfway down. I pressed a finger right under the glans and he trembled, as though his whole body was going to come undone. 

He opened half-lidded eyes and looked at me. “Did it feel good?” he asked after he caught his breath and grabbed for the pipe from the tray, taking out the remnants of the little ball and cooking them deftly over the spirit lamp. He took a large drag with trembling hands and fell back on the pillows, visibly calming down. 

“It was. It was what I needed.” I said, crawling close to him and giving him a light kiss on the lips. He tasted sweet, his breath smelling of the drug. He tried to lift himself on his elbow to give me a deeper kiss, but that last drag of opium was evidently too much for his exhausted body and he fell back quickly, passing out into sleep. I curled up next to him and wondered whether doing this to him would drive him to pursue his own pleasure harder, whether it would drive him to claim me just a bit more. He certainly did not seem to resent me. And, surprisingly, I didn’t feel self-loathing creeping inside my heart either. 

* * *

“Wake up sweethearts, it is time to go. We are closing shop. You are welcome to come again tonight, I see you enjoyed yourselves.” I blinked a few times and saw the waitress peeking in and glancing at our naked bodies from the beaded curtain she had parted with her hand, giving me a lascivious grin and I nodded to her before she turned to leave. I guessed dawn was not far away. I kissed Sil’il’s forehead to wake him up and got up to look for my robe.


	16. Sulk, Glower and Smile

It was the second time I was being woken up that morning, as we had managed to still catch a few hours of sleep after returning to the inn. “Come on, wake up already, why must you always wake up so late?” came Marcus’ voice after what must have been knocking on the door. 

“Yeah… we’re coming. Is Ciel here still?” 

“Yes, things are okay, just come.” 

And then things were quiet again. “Loff’ta” ***** murmured Sil’il in my neck, pressing his morning erection on my thigh. Good Gods I could get used to this. Two mornings in a row with his lovely cock pressed against me. I was happy too. And shaken as usual by his preference for uttering emotions holophrastically, like a child. Why did it touch me so deeply? 

“You said you needed me to chase away the ghosts jalil, but here I am, content in your arms. Maybe it is you who chases away the ghosts, xas?” ***** He buried his nose into my neck, taking in my scent. I could tell he didn’t want to get up and neither did I. This was bliss. At that moment, it felt like I would never get used to it. We must have fallen asleep again, for I found myself waking up with a start to a rather unrestrained torrent of thumps on the door: Someone was hitting it with their palm or fist. 

“How long are you going to make us wait, ey? Please tell me you are _sleeping_ and not doing something else at least.” 

“Go away Anna, we’ll be right there.” I answered unenthusiastically and noticed Sil’il was rubbing his eyes wearily next to me. 

“This time you better, we are growing listless and we need to go get supplies before we leave, remember?” 

I got up and stretched, and after washing up I started digging through my bag to get new clothes out. I unrolled a stretch of fabric and started binding my breasts, pulling firmly to flatten them against my chest. I turned around and saw Sil’il looking at me inquisitively. I rummaged a little more in my bag and found a pair of leather leggings, much like Sil’il’s own, but made from slightly thinner leather. I wiggled myself in them and, instead of my usual shoes, I put on a pair of knee-high lace-up boots. Finally, I slipped on my robe and tied the sash. When I turned around once more I found Sil’il had made no progress in getting dressed and was still sitting on the bed, looking at me. “We really should go, why aren’t you getting dressed?” 

“I don’t like it.” he said, glowering at my outfit. 

I raised my eyebrows at him but he just kept looking at me sullenly. Our eyes locked and for a while we kept looking at each other in mute challenge. He did not seem willing to back down, just kept looking at me straight in the eyes with that violet gaze I couldn’t really resist, though this was not the time to get distracted by him. I met his gaze and relaxed my features, waiting to see if he would yield, but after a while it became evident to me that he stubbornly would not. 

“Well, I do not like it either, Sil’il, but I have to ride a horse today so the situation is what it is.” I toyed with the idea of getting my hands on a cursed girdle of femininity and strapping it on him, making him ride a horse with bare legs and unbound breasts just for my own mirth, see how _he_ liked it. Surely one of Baldur’s Gates' countless festhalls and brothels must have such an item on hand. I saw him scrunching his face, biting the inside of his lip. Without saying anything more on the matter he proceeded to wear his clothes and I turned back to the task of repacking my bag. 

As I neatly folded items in an effort to minimize space consumption my mind raced, starting to see an emerging pattern: His outburst after our first night at the cave when he found my powder; His rather vicious, irrepressible claiming of my rear after the night of the Cynosure Ball; His rebellious, challenging stance this morning with my clothes… It certainly appeared that the meeting of our bodies unhinged his normally reserved and constrained behavior. In fact, it turned him into quite the brat. I smirked to myself. This was getting interesting. Perhaps I should test his limits, I thought to myself. Or simply experiment, see what other interesting little facets of himself he was going to reveal. It would be interesting to watch him, find out all about his intriguing motivations, quirks, whims and urges, all of the things he so carefully kept inside. If only I could find all his little triggers. It was an interesting line to tread, that much was certain. 

After we had packed everything we went to meet the others in Marcus’ room. “Ah, there you are. Finally. Help yourself to some food, today we brought some upstairs so you two don’t have to go without” said Marcus, pointing to a plate piled high with toasted bread and cheese. “I know you are not usually one for rising early but today took the cake.” He continued, poking my arm playfully with a finger, but I could tell he was a bit annoyed cause he used enough force to actually hurt a bit. 

“Tsk.” I went, poking him back with double the force he’d used and causing him to mutter and rub the tender spot. “We went out.” 

“Ooh, where to?” asked Anna. 

“The Undercellar. It was the only place I could think of where Sil’il was not bound to cause a stir.” 

“Did they have a show?” 

“I don’t know, we got a private room, I did not want to risk drinking out in the open. Now can you please bring me up to speed with how to deal with our problem from yestereve?” I looked at Ciel meaningfully. 

“Marcus… explained to me how this occurred, Divina. About the Harpers and the, uh, Eilistraeeans in Waterdeep… And though I cannot, uhm… in good conscience take back the things I said… I am willing to work together for the purpose of this mission.” 

I tilted my head to the side. “Do you not think you owe Sil’il an apology? You said some pretty awful things last night.” 

“I only said the truth as I know it about his kind. You know it is true as well. As for him… if you have found a needle in a haystack, a pearl in the gutter… Well that remains to be seen.” 

I was amazed. She was not willing to compromise at all, it seemed to me. I looked at Sil’il who had helped himself to some of the bread and was munching on it, his face expressionless, carefully kept blank. He swallowed the bite he had in his mouth and turned to me, instead of looking at Ciel as he spoke: “Accepted. Trust has to be earned. It is a concept I am familiar with. Though where I come from that is truly like looking for a pearl in the gutter, and even if you find it, you are never sure whether it was all an illusion. Most of the time you end up holding a pebble in your hand, no more pearly than a stone bead.” He shrugged simply and turned his attention back to the food. 

I didn’t really know what to make of his reactions. I had seen him fingering his blades last night as Ciel piled on her insults, I had seen him deeply needing the relaxation we found at the Undercellar… I had no idea whether his current tranquil state was a tactical decision based on our company’s needs as we embarked on the next leg of our journey, whether it was an inner peace found after prayer to his Goddess who preached peace among his kind and the surface races, or whether it was perhaps his wish to not cause trouble for me, to not cause ripples. And while it was true that this was making things easier from a practical point of view, it was also accurate to say it did not leave me emotionally satisfied. 

“How ‘bout on your end, Divina? Did you see or hear anything strange at the Undercellar?” asked Anna.

“Nope. We were in the private room as I said and we left almost at dawn’s break, when pretty much everyone else was already gone. The only thing that happened was that we had to fight off some undead in the sewers on the way back… But it was nothing, really - even though we were groggy, they were a minor threat: Mostly zombies.” 

“Two undead attacks in the sewers in as many days? Does the Gate have an infestation? Have you heard something like that, Ciel?” asked Marcus, turning to look at my half-sister. 

“Not that I am aware of, no. Which is strange, because even though I do not make a habit of going to the sewers – in fact I do not know what possessed you to go not once, but _twice_ …” and at that she paused dramatically, as though she expected us to offer some impromptu excuse – unlikely, because there was no way any of us were about to tell her Sil’il had killed that harmless male prostitute at the harbor – before continuing: “…but shouldn’t I have heard about something like that if there is a festhall down there? I mean… If the sewers have become infested with undead creatures, the visitors of this particular establishment would regularly become victims… I mean, I mean, most of them do not have our kind of skills. Normal people visit these places…” 

I shook my head. “No, I don’t think that’s right. I mean, yes, you _would_ have heard of it were it a normal place… But the Undcellar engages in a lot of activities, that, shall we say, keep it on the wrong side of the law. From illegal substances to illegal gambling, to unregistered profits… They would not report any of their guests’ deaths – in fact I suppose they would go out of their way to dispose of bodies, easy enough a task in the sewers. The staff themselves are protected by the hired security and the visitors are there at their own risk. Most people that go to the Undercellar do not make a point of announcing it to their families and friends either, so how would people find out there is something going on down there? Anyway… We cannot draw conclusions based on two incidents only, even if they happened in two consecutive days. The best course of action would be to let the local Slackliner cell know, and go on our way.” 

Marcus nodded in agreement. “Yes, and I would go as far as to propose we just report it to the clergy at the Temple of Lord Kelemvor. There is no reason to expend Slackliner resources on this.” He shrugged. “Shall we go downstairs, settle our bills and arrange for some horses? Then we can go buy trail rations and be on our way. It is good it is still summer and the sun will set late.” At that, he gave me a piercing stare. 

“Oh, let it go, Marcus! So we went out and had some fun, so we slept in. We needed it after last night’s unpalatable ‘dinner’. I hope you enjoyed yours, for ours did not go down so well!” 

I was being unfair. Marcus did stay back with Ciel and smoothed things over, and now we had a cleric - an _experienced_ cleric - regardless of whether the situation was ideal. However, I was growing a bit tired of his jabs and was wondering why he was being so annoying. Perhaps somewhere deep inside he was resentful of the fact that I had forced a drow upon our company, someone who was bound to make our travels at least a little more complicated even just by virtue of having to conceal his skin when we were in cities, towns and settlements. And he _had_ already been at the center of two problems already. But the mission was given to me personally by Open Lord Maria van Hangendoorn, another voice in my head insisted. I had the _right_ to choose my own team. This was not a point I was inclined to press, as I did not wish to alienate my closest friends and associates, like Marcus, hence my acceptance of Anna into our group. Well, it was time for them to make their own sacrifices as well, I thought, stubbornly. Sil’il was not going anywhere. He deserved a normal life as much as anyone, otherwise what was the point of getting rescued? 

“Alright my friend, alright. I’ve always known you were a night-owl and not a lark. We’ve all had a restless night, mmm? We didn’t sleep that early ourselves and nerves are certainly a bit frayed. Let us start over” said Marcus and a grin spread over his face, having the instant effect of making it look as though the sun had just broken through heavy clouds. No one in their right minds could stay mad at him for long. 

After settling our bill, we picked horses in the stables and arranged for them to wait for us by the Southwestern gate. I noticed Sil’il’s curious touch on his horse’s muzzle before it was led away by the inn’s hostler and wondered whether he knew how to ride a horse. Ultimately, I reasoned, since he knew how to ride the Underdark’s riding lizards – a skill that took a number of years to perfect since the rider had to coordinate various muscles to not fall from the mount when the lizard walked up on walls or even upside down on ceilings, then a horse should not pose significant trouble. We bought plenty of nuts, dried fruit, a couple of small heads of hard cheese, as well as dried meat and dried mushrooms to make soup with and stocked up on healing kits and potions. I was thankful for our bags of holding, neatly tucked into our knapsacks, for they significantly reduced the weight we had to carry. Finally, we went to an elven bakery and bought a few loaves of lembas bread – one of the few kinds of bread that kept well on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Loff’ta:** Happy  
>  ***Xas:** Yes


	17. Accidents Will Happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little slower to post lately due to summer holidays finally kicking in together with the good weather :) I hope you will all enjoy this longer chapter as compensation ;) More material ready, so see you soon again! :-*

The Gate had grown considerably and what used to be farmlands around it for many centuries had in the more recent years been turned into settlements to accommodate many of the recent arrivals. Still, a few farms remained and on our way over the Coast Way we passed through pastures and well-maintained fields. Soon, the open plains stretched before us and Sil’il removed his circlet and spurred his horse into a canter, letting out an incoherent sound of pure joy, his lips breaking into a smile and then laughing, his hair loose on his back. Anna caught up to me, pacing her horse next to mine. She turned to me with a glint in her eye, her loose red curls bouncing as her cowl fell back: “I have to admit… That’s pretty cute.”

I laughed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Oh?” She smiled naughtily, her eyes inquisitive.

I shrugged and smiled in turn. “He just does things like this all the time. Takes joy in the most minute things, takes nothing for granted. It is as if all his senses are ready to be stimulated at any given moment and he has no fear or inhibition in expressing…” I felt my face redden, not quite knowing how to continue, although my thoughts were quite pure in that instance.

“Hey, I understand, Divina. It’s all those years in the Underdark, ey? Imagine seeing and tasting everything for the first time. Are you ready to forgive me then? For forcing you to come to the Harper’s Hall with me that day? Now that you see this?” 

“Anna, it’s not like I was holding it against you. You were just following orders. As for forgiving the rest for what they’d done… Not sending me to the Underdark, but killing those dragons… No, I cannot forgive that. But this has nothing to do with you. I just hope that your intentions are true. That you do mean it when you say you see things our way with regard to bringing back a semblance of balance in the Realms.” 

She nodded. “The uncontrollable spread of humanoid influence cannot go unchecked. I am with you. Beyond that… thanks for sharing a bit with me…” and with that, she winked and spurred her horse, speeding ahead to play with Sil’il who was still enjoying the freedom of the sun on his skin and the expanse of nature ahead.

I wondered if her words were true. On both counts actually, but it was the second one that really got me. I felt a bit like a fraud: She had thanked me for sharing something of my thoughts with her, but it was I who felt thankful because, in truth, I _had_ wanted to speak these emotions out, these strange feelings that seemed to be wringing my heart even though there was absolutely nothing objectively negative about them. Moreover, I had never had many real friends to discuss such things with besides Marcus and Artemis – and that was not because of lack of people around me after I left the High Forest. People tend to think of Candlekeep as an austere place of quiet learning, filled with absent-minded, old, celibate monks and no youth to speak of, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Candlekeep, in fact, is more like a small town – with its own inn and drinking hole, places of worship, a substantial guard, shops and stables. Most importantly, there are plenty of young people to be found there. People like me, people that went there to study. Most of them are the second or third-born heirs of noble and well-to-do families who are not going to inherit. Their families send them on a different path, a scholastic path that lends them power and prestige without having to depend on the family fortune that will be bequeathed to their other children one way or another. Sometimes it has nothing to do with inheritance and all to do with the prestige in fact. Other times it is simply because the brightest of heirs choose this path of their own volition, seeing no future in the family’s mercantile or political tradition and wishing to forge a different future for themselves. 

There were thus plenty of young men and women to get acquainted with once there. Problem was, I was not exactly in the right frame of mind to actually _make_ any friends. Severely deprived of acknowledgment – let alone praise – after the Silver mother’s death at the High Forest, I predictably latched on to the self-affirming effect my teachers’ approval had on me. One could say it had an almost addictive impact on me. And the environment itself enabled that behavior: Not only were the Candlekeep scholars that devoted time and effort to teaching others appreciative of students with a thirst for knowledge and obedience, but there were plenty of others like me who zealously vied for recognition. Moreover, there was severe competition amongst the students in getting to spend time with the brightest of visiting scholars, eager to become disciples of one famed personage in one field or other. Most of the students had a rather more easy-going approach to their learning, their stable family lives likely having equipped them with enough self-worth and wisdom to grasp that even if they were not at the top of achievement, they would still be peerless among others in their field just by virtue of having had the privilege to study in Candlekeep. Those fortunate ones forged friendships, took time off their studies to drink and make merry in the evenings, sometimes took time off to visit the Gate for fun. As for myself, I was lost in the game of endless competition, making myself socially miserable and finding emotional sustenance in the praise and admittedly lavish attention that my tutors bestowed upon me. The result was scholastic achievement and recognition, but a stunted capacity for forging true bonds with others. By the time I finished my studies I had managed to build my self-worth based on my teachers’ encouragement and my obvious accomplishments in my studies but was also severely exhausted and emotionally unfulfilled. One of the perks of having a long lifespan however, is the chance to make up for lost time. My eventual settling in Waterdeep allowed me to find a place where I finally felt at home. And slowly, but surely, I begun getting acquainted with people that saw me and not my past – for they did not know it. Slowly but surely a modicum of trust was born inside of me. Enough to allow me to form some bonds, and even some friendships. Still, friendship and trust did not find its way easily to me – how could it, when the door was always only half-open and a pair of suspicious eyes peered cautiously from within? As such, Anna’s easy conversation was welcome, giving me a change to discharge those feelings I was keeping bottled up.

When night fell we led our horses a ways off the Coast Way and set up camp at the edge of nearby Cloakwood. This was not a safe and tranquil forest, quite the contrary in fact: A wide variety of creatures, as mundane to the casual adventurer as giant spiders, to bizarre, such as sapient, attacking trees and vines as well as vicious fey were all common here. However, we reasoned the edges of the forest closest to the Coast Way would be safe enough – safer at least than camping out in the open like sitting ducks. Not that we had much to fear from bandits – in fact I suspected that even if bandits were to cross our way they would do their best to get out of it as quickly as possible – but old habits die hard. Somehow, the open road at night seems more hostile than anything else to the seasoned adventurer, more dangerous than the familiar unknown that lurks in forests, caves and ruins. 

“If we keep going like this we should reach Beregost in another two, maybe three days” said Marcus, taking a well-worn, self-drawn map from his bag and marking our current location. 

“I have never been that far south, I am interested to see it.”

“Oh, come on, that doesn’t even qualify as properly “south” Ciel!” exclaimed Anna, aghast. “How can someone grow so old without having been anywhere?”

“First of all I assure you I am quite young.” Replied Ciel with a seriousness that made me suppress a snicker. “Secondly, I _have_ been to places. I have travelled the North extensively – Neverwinter, Yartar, Longsaddle, Mirabar… why, even Luskan! …Although I would never willingly go to Luskan again. With the Arcane Brotherhood still in shambles compared to what it used to be pre-Spellplague… The city continues to be absolute anarchy and chaos. Not that I support the Brotherhood and their ways… But truly, sometimes it is only when what you considered evil is removed that you really begin to see what true evil is like.” Ciel visibly shuddered and hugged her knees close to her chest, her dark curls falling over her face and hiding her suddenly pensive eyes. Eventually, she lifted her face again and took another bite from her lembas and cheese sandwich, stealing a glance at Anna. “So, umm, Anna, what led you down this… err… profession?”

Anna’s left eyebrow shot up and her lips contorted into an acrid half-smile, completely unlike her usual disposition. So, there seemed to be a hard edge under all the bubbliness, I thought to myself. 

_“Need.”_ She answered simply, in a tone that did not invite further interrogation.

Marcus bent towards me, bringing his lips close to my ear: “Now I see where you get it from.” He whispered.

“Excuse me, are you implying I have something in common with this person?”

Marcus’ eyebrows knitted together, lifting higher in the middle, his lips pressed together in a tiny smile, his entire face a mixture of mockery and pity. When he realized my disposition was not shifting, his features softened slightly: “Yes, a common family background, a common environment growing up. Seems like your directness has not sprung forth from a vacuum after all, hmm? There is yet more High Elf in you than you had previously let on, as I am just finding out.”

I frowned, not quite knowing how to respond to this, or even what to think about it. Disturbed and at a loss for words I got up to lay out my bedroll. 

“Jalil, the fire, quickly!”

I stopped in my tracks and tried to listen, but my ears were simply not as sensitive as his. I swiftly licked my index finger and blew on it in the direction of the campfire, the simple prestidigitation snuffing out the flames with a damp sputter. It was clear Ciel was hearing it too, whatever ‘it’ was. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and turned to me, asking “Vara?” in elven, ready to start an incantation to protect us from evil. I held up a hand and shook my head, not wanting to alert anyone to our presence with her prayer. Finally, I started hearing the sound too: Horses and a carriage approaching. I fished out a medallion with a crystal from my bag and held it before my eyes, quietly mouthing a few words to start the clairvoyance, sending an invisible eye towards the direction of the sounds. Three horses – one with a small, covered carriage and the other two with riders: Two men – a burly half-orc and a human. As they came closer and closer, we could hear the soft snorts of the horses, as well as a loud, unusually melodic neigh that started in a squeal and ended in a tapering nicker. 

I exchanged a meaningful glance with Marcus. He nodded and we waited until the company passed. Once things became relatively quiet again I turned to him, hoping he had put his ranger skills to good use based on my look alone, considering he could not have known about the carriage: “Could you understand what they were saying? There was a tiny carriage drawn by one of the horses, and they are travelling under the dark of night – this can only mean one thing as far as I am concerned: Asperii black trade – they’ve captured doffs!”

Marcus nodded. “Yep, they’re doffs alright, and yes I could hear them. They simply kept repeating _Where are you? I am here…_ over and over again. They are scared – likely very young.”

“Asperii? Doffs?” asked Sil’il. 

“Magical steeds - doffs are their young, what a foal would be to a regular horse. They have the ability to levitate and are usually more intelligent than most humans. Faithful to a fault if they bond with someone. Which these ones are clearly meant to do, taken so young – they will have no recourse, either sadness will take them or they will bond with their new master, it’ll be a game of survival for them now…” I explained.

“That’s _awful_!” gasped Anna.

I nodded. This situation hit quite close to home for me considering the circumstances of my birth and the Silver mother’s death and was, as such, happy to find that Anna was recognizing the horror of it as well. “We are going after them. Let’s pack up.”

“They will hear the horses immediately – we are with five of us, there’ll be no element of surprise” said Anna with a grimace.

“We don’t need an element of surprise. As you said, we are with _five_ of us, they are just two – two cowards travelling the night, likely on their way to make their purse heavy with gold coin from some spoiled rich noble in the Gate. Let’s get them. Death is more than they deserve. The less of these beasts roam the realms the better.”

We quickly packed everything and I created a small number of dancing lights to accompany Anna, though the starry night was quite bright by itself, not a cloud in sight. Despite giving them a head start, we quickly started closing up the distance considering we spurred the horses to a swift gallop from the start, while they had both the carriage with its precious cargo to maneuver as well as the fact that they were originally keeping to a comfortable pace. 

“Don’t harm the horses, don’t harm the horses!” screamed Marcus as he saw Anna raising her bow. “We can draw up from their sides and maneuver ourselves in front of them!” He was right: With Anna’s lack of ability to see properly in low-light conditions the danger was too high that a stray arrow may hit a horse and spook it, potentially dragging the carriage into a crash if it was the one drawing it.

Anna threaded her bow back and leaned forward, spurring her horse desperately to get ahead after having slowed down while she was taking aim. I heard the half-orc screaming something that I couldn’t make out over the mad galloping that was ringing in my ears. I did not dare to cast a spell to hold the horses in place for fear of what would happen to the carriage with the doffs should they come to an abrupt halt. Ciel and Sil’il with their light and lithe elven frames were the first to reach the human and the half-orc, each on either side, with myself hot on their trails only a few feet away. I saw the half-orc looking back and taking aim as he swung a bolas high above his head, the two metal balls catching the light of the stars for a moment before he cast it.

“Swerve!” I screamed and looked back to see Marcus quickly changing direction while Anna kept riding madly as though she hadn’t heard me. The bolas wrapped easily around her horse’s front legs and its hind bucked wildly, throwing her in the air and to the ground. 

“GO!” Marcus yelled as he fell back to tend to her. 

I faced forward again to catch sight of Ciel swinging her flail and after an almost tinkling sound of metal I heard a dull thud and the half-orc’s face was bludgeoned. He screamed and the pain expressed from his lungs was almost blood-curdling. She swung again and this time caught him at the back of the head, killing him. In the meantime, Sil’il had brought his horse level with the human’s and swung himself behind him, balancing on the horse using just his leg muscles – all those years’ training on the precarious mounts that are Underdark riding lizards had clearly done the trick. He grabbed the man from the hair, pulling the head back and exposing the neck. Then, with one swift motion he slid his throat, blood spraying all over him. He pushed both bodies off the horses and grabbed the reigns, coaxing the horses to a stop. We dismounted and opened the carriage to inspect the cargo. Two tiny doffs, their hides almost blindingly white in the night, silver manes and tails glimmering, huddled together inside. I stepped in with them, bending so that I could fit and reached an open palm, freely offering up my scent. I then started murmuring quietly at them for a while, disjointed words of comfort, and after a few moments all was silent, but for the soft, calmer snorts of the doffs. 

After we had made sure the horses were not spooked and would stay calm we guided them back to where Anna lay prone on the ground, with Marcus above her. He turned to Ciel and shook his head. “My healing powers are not sufficient for what has happened…” He looked pale and concerned. “Can you do something for her?” He opened Anna’s lids with his fingers. One eye looked normal, the other had a pupil the size of a cat’s in the night-time, dilated till almost no iris was visible. A dribble of sick was drying on the left side of her face and she was unconscious. 

Ciel pursed her lips hard, till they became a thin white line. She placed her hand on Anna’s forehead and closed her eyes, concentrating and whispering a small prayer. Finally, she nodded: “Yes, I can help her. Marcus, can you heal the horse?”

Marcus nodded, relieved from his duty at Anna’s side. The horse had broken both its front legs and was lying on its side, breathing arduously. Marcus untangled the bolas, whispering quietly to the horse to keep it calm, then he started work on its legs, feeling the bones and pressing a healing touch where necessary. The horse would be fine, there was little doubt in my mind about that. For now, the important thing was to see Anna wake up. Ciel put her right hand on Anna’s chest while the index and middle finger of her left hand went to rest on Anna’s temple. She raised her voice in prayer and soon a bright blue light seemed to engulf Anna’s body before disappearing again. Anna blinked a few times and raised her body on her elbows to look at us. “It hurts…” she groaned. 

“Here, have this for the pain” said Ciel, handing Anna a small vial from the potions case strapped around her waist. She then turned to me, eyes ablaze: “How could this happen? They were just two puny, annoying parasites! How could you let this happen?”

I almost reeled backwards from the shock. “This is _my_ fault?”

“You said it was not a problem! You said we outnumbered them and we went in there without protections! We trust you to make decisions and you let this happen to Anna!”

“No…” protested Anna weakly. “This was my fault… I didn’t understand…”

“You are joking, right? Yes, I could have predicted the bolas attack had I some time to think beforehand, considering they went to hunt an Asperii herd and this is likely the kind of thing they use to separate mother from child. But Asperii are exceedingly rare creatures! This is the first time I have ever even seen one, let alone two! I have never been in such a situation before. I did not have time to think about all of the details, we had to catch up with them. As for protections, nothing would have protected us against the bolas.”

“You could have shot fire on that nasty piece of rope before it reached her horse, burnt it down.” She had stopped shouting now, but her eyes were hard as ever.

I shook my head despondently, feeling like the air had been punched out of me after the initial burst of outrage had subsided. “Ciel, I am not Sil’il. I do not have his riding skills” and with that I paused for a moment to glance at him and found his face icy cold, looking at Ciel with a piercing, calculating glare. Dear Gods, what an evening this was turning out to be. “I saw the bolas and knew it would hit. Even if I had had the time to cast a spell – and you are right, a cantrip like a fire bolt might have done the trick – there is no telling if it would hit the flying object, and there is no telling whether I would have been able to keep my balance on the galloping horse while casting it. I chose as best I could and turned around to warn them. I specifically—”

“Okay, that’s enough.” said Marcus, interrupting me. “This is not fair, what is happening here. Yes, Anna was hurt. But we all did the best we could, this just could not have been avoided under the current circumstances. And by current circumstances I mean our established affinity, our level of experience in acting as a group. Sure, Divina and I have seen many battles together, which is why I could easily follow her directions, knew what she meant. But the three of you have never yet fought at our side. It will take some time yet. Nothing could have prevented this situation because we simply lack synergy, synchronicity, understanding. Enough blaming for tonight, please. Otherwise synergy might never find us, and that is a chilling thought indeed, seeing as our trip has only just begun.”

Ciel looked down, clenching and unclenching her fists. “Her mind was harmed. When I put my hands on her, I felt it. Bruised, confused, swollen, her blood clotting. We almost lost her. I… As a cleric, I could not bear to lose someone on the first battle we encountered. I just couldn’t. You know, the wounds of the flesh, even broken bones are easy to mend; Poison is easy to purify, if you know what you are dealing with. The mind though, the mind is much harder to put back together. I got scared…” 

Marcus nodded and patted her back. It tasted bitter, his comforting gesture. I kept kneeling next to where Anna had been lying down, staring blankly ahead of me. It had been a long time since I’d felt this way, but there it was again, that emptiness, like the heart was heavy, red and bleeding. I felt confused enough that if I was left to my own devices I might have spent the next hour there, on the side of the road, staring into the night, focusing only on the smells of the foliage. I don’t even remember how we made it to camp, but when we did, I took the first watch. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway and I did not want to lie my body next to anyone. Time, space, those were the things I needed. You think you have become someone else, someone resilient, someone bold and brave, till something scratches that old wound again and there you are again, deep inside a dark pit, feeling small, insignificant, hopeless.


End file.
